


Behind Blue Eyes

by Rhiw



Series: M is for Mummy [7]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha!James, Alpha!Mycroft, Alpha!Sherlock, Alpha!Sherrinford, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Dirty Talk, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Face-Fucking, Family Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I Believe in Mycroft Holmes, M/M, Misunderstood!Mycroft, Mutual Masturbation, Omega!Alcott, Omega!Annabeth, Omega!John, Omega!Mike, Oral Knotting, Overprotective!Mycroft, Prostitution, Public Sex, Romantic!Oldschool!Mycroft, Rough Sex, Rutting, Surprise! Mycroft is really good at sex, There will be old school dime novel courting in the last two chappies, Vaginal Sex, manipulative!Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiw/pseuds/Rhiw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven times Mycroft Holmes is forcibly reminded that he feels like everyone else.</p><p>0. Grief - Mycroft can remember the first time Sherlock called him ‘daddy.' ((No longer considered cannon to this story, but I've kept it up))<br/>1. Fear - For the first time in years, Mycroft found himself utterly afraid and unprepared.<br/>2. Disappointment - Though the Alpha knew this outcome would happen, he could not fight the biting disappointment.<br/>3. Lust - He hated his ruts.<br/>4. Interest - And yet…there was something interesting about Lestrade, something that made him impossible to forget completely.<br/>5. Attraction - The attraction he felt towards Gregory was the strongest he'd ever felt towards anyone.<br/>6. Affection - It wasn’t quite love, but it was close; a deep and binding affection, a budding sense of possession and obligation, and Mycroft took his obligations very seriously.<br/>7. Love - <em>Love,</em> the Alpha realized all at once, that was what the emotion was called.<br/>+1. Family - Yet the Alpha could hardly deny that it had never looked as fine as it did today, filled to the brim with his suddenly rather expansive family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grief (No longer canoncial part of this story)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter is no longer considered canonical to this series now that Sherlock's 'death' has been explained, but I kept it up because I'm very fond of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is four days after the fall and inspired by one of my favorite scenes in the series.
> 
> Mycroft - 43, Sherlock - 36

**June 16th, 2012**  
  
Mycroft can remember the first time Sherlock called him ‘daddy.’  
  
As he sat silently in Diogenes club, newspaper held in a deceptively calm grip, the Alpha found himself hating his perfect recall.  
  
Sherlock was one, and having learned to speak early as all Holmes children tended to do, proceeded to refuse to ever fall silent again. The Alpha had been as patient as an eight year old could be, helping the pup eat his homemade squash baby food, as he recorded pertinent information from the business section into his day journal. It was a familiar scene. With a family full of high profile, in demand members, the two youngest Holmes pups were often left alone. Siger Holmes, ever a man dedicated to his craft (despite the fact that he was supposedly 'retired' at forty-two), was away for work again – a month in Nice this time – and Mummy rarely made it home before ten o'clock. Even Sherrinford was away at boarding school.  
  
Mycroft had found it somewhat annoying. He had better things to do, even if he had only been eight, besides toting his clingy brother around and letting him gum up his favorite shirts' collars. But he couldn't quite bring himself to leave Sherlock alone, either. Besides. It was his duty as both an Alpha and the eldest Holmes' boy in the house too look after him.  
  
The tiny pup chewed slowly, the gooey stuff slowly spilling from his mouth, head cocked to the side as if considering something as he watched Mycroft read the newspaper. The older boy ignored him mostly, off-handedly using the baby spoon to catch dripping food and shovel it back up into Sherlock’s mouth. But then the baby had begun to steadfastly refuse the spoon entrance, letting out annoyed little huffing sounds as he bobbed up and down in an attempt to escape the older Alpha's instance.  
  
After a few more failures, Mycroft had finally set the paper down, turning his full attention to his brother with a frown, far from in the mood to deal with a fussy one year old. Sherlock had pointed a dirty, grubby little fist in his direction and despite the fact that he was a toddler there had been a confident authority behind the movements.  
  
 _“Dadda.”_  
  
Mycroft mouth had dropped, eyes wide in a rare sign of surprise as he stared at the tiny boy. He knew it shouldn't have, really. After all their parents were rarely home and Mycroft did spend most of his time with Sherlock. He helped Nan feed and bathe him more often than not, picked him up from daycare after school and always put the little one to bed at night. It was only logical that the pup would assume…it didn’t mean anything, really.  
  
But Mycroft had felt something warm and undeniable bloom in his chest, a vice that had locked itself around his heart and only grown tighter and tighter as Sherlock had matured into brilliance. He’d felt it for both of his younger siblings, but the love he had for Sherlock – for the first child he had raised – was all encompassing.  
  
He was a Holmes, and they were not known for encouraging attachments, but Mycroft had clung to those he had with a fierceness that bordered on obsessive. And so despite everything that had happen; the rebellion, the drugs, the younger Alpha’s resentment, Mycroft loved his little brother with every inch of his being.  
  
And now…  
  
He would never see Sherlock again. Never argue with him. Never hear his brother tell him how much he hated him. Sherlock. His brave, brilliant, lonely, broken, little brother was gone. And it was Mycroft's own fault.  
  
He had failed Sherlock.  
  
Just like he had failed Sherrinford.  
  
His brothers were dead.  
  
In the silence of the room, the Alpha allowed himself a deep breath. Only the slightest twitch, a subtle pull around his eyes, gave any truth to the hurt that seemed to cut into his very soul. This place had become his only respite. Only here, in the unbudging privacy that the silence brought, did Mycroft feel he could grieve.  
  
He sat there for too long. Until they began to shut the lights off and an usher stood off to the side, searching for a polite way to ask him to leave. It was only then that Mycroft stood, gathering his hat and overcoat, tucking an umbrella under his arm before stepping out into the London air. He walked home. Something that the busy Alpha never did, yet had done every evening for the last four nights.  
  
It took him almost two hours to reach his home. Anthea waiting for him outside, her face perfectly composed but Mycroft did not miss the echo of worry behind her grey eyes. He gave her a nod, but could not manage a smile and took the portfolio she offered before stepping into his house.  
  
The foyer was dark, but Mycroft didn’t move to turn the light on. He hung up his cap and coat, slid his umbrella into the holder. Everything was methodical. Every move precise. He felt terribly remote from his own body, as if he was floating away yet was kept grounded by his grief and guilt. For a long moment he simply stared at his front door before making himself turn, fully intending to go into his library and crack open a 1864 whiskey he’d been saving and froze.  
  
A scent – an impossible, illogical scent and – there, standing in the shadows and backlit by the light streaming into his study, was Sherlock.  
  
For a moment, the Alpha thought he was hallucinating, but then Sherlock gave him that same half-cocked, blasted smile he always did when he knew he’d done something very naughty, and greeted him with a soft, _“Surprised?”_  
  
The tone he spoke with was overly casual, but the lines around his face were tight, his light eyes serious. He was nervous. The younger man looked like hell; skin an unhealthy white dotted with dark, browning bruising that crept up the side of Sherlock's neck and chin and graced his forehead like a tarnished crown.  
  
Mycroft took a long inhale in through his nose, holding the scent of his brother deep in his lungs before letting it out just as slowly. He crossed the distance between the two of them in three short strides and the younger Alpha stiffened, muscles tensing as if preparing for a strike. But Mycroft only yanked him forward by his lapels. The tall body fell into his own awkwardly, the size difference causing a moment of in-cohesion as Mycroft attempted to hold Sherlock like he had when he was still a young pup; all lanky limbs and a deadly bark with no bite.  
  
The eldest Holmes pressed his forehead against the younger's shoulder, both hands greedy in their grip as he pressed Sherlock against him. Mycroft took another deep inhale, allowing himself to relish in Sherlock's own personal smell, only slightly embittered by the London air and injury.  
  
Sherlock’s own hands came up to his shoulders jerkily, as if unsure, which Mycroft was sure he was. They hadn’t touched each other on a personal level since Sherlock had been a boy. He was acting completely and utterly outside of the realm of his normal behavior. This had not been what Sherlock expected. But the Alpha didn’t care.  
  
Because Sherlock was alive.  
  
Alive.  
  
Here.  
  
With Mycroft.  
  
His _pup._  
  
“Mycroft,” his brother mumbled, his voice carrying the wilted tone of uncertainty, of apology, “I should have told you before I-”  
  
“Be quiet.” Mycroft ordered, his own voice heavy with emotion. “It was…do you have any idea what…you were _dead,_ Shirley.” Sherlock let out a sharp exhale at the childhood nickname, flinching in the older Alpha's arms as if he’d been struck. “You were dead, and I…”  
  
He broke off, unwilling to carry on when his voice was so obviously compromised by emotion, and suddenly Mycroft was being held back just as fiercely. They stood like that, wrapped tightly around each other, soaking in the comfort of the other’s existence, for far longer than either would ever care to admit.


	2. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in years, Mycroft found himself utterly afraid and unprepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed and not brit picked. This is a part of the M is for Mummy-verse. For anyone interested, the next chapter for A Private War should be released by the end of today as well.
> 
> Sherrinford - 48, Mycroft - 43, Sherlock - 36, Alcott - 31.

****February 27 th, 2011**   
**

Sherrinford laid still and unmoving on the slab before him.

His eldest brother’s skin was abnormally pale, making his shock of auburn hair stand out harshly. They’ve cleaned him well and the only sign of the wounds that caused his death was the small, craggy hole in the front of his forehead and the torn skin around the Alpha’s knuckles.

It is his brother’s hands that cut Mycroft the deepest.

Sherrinford had never been much of a fighter. No, the eldest Holmes boy had always solved his fights with pervasive words and a firm tone, preferably putting down the conflict before it had ever had a chance to become one. His brother had always been calm like that; infuriatingly so and had hardly ever raised his voice.

Perhaps that’s why the bruised knuckles seemed so wrong?

It seems impossible – incredible, even – that this still thing is his larger than life brother and for a moment Mycroft felt an overwhelming amount of panic. It clawed at his chest, ripped at his lungs until he has to take a few steps away from the still form _(the body)_ , a hand seeking support on a nearby stainless steel cabinet.

Mycroft found himself instantly out of his depth; emotions swamping him in a manner that is completely understandable but not at all _acceptable._ Alcott and his nephew were unattended and injured several floors above him. Mummy was flying in at this very moment. And someone still had to tell Sherlock. Mycroft was the eldest now, the Pack Alpha. It was his responsibility now to look after his pack, but he couldn’t think – not when every time he took a breath it felt like he was swallowing water.

All he could think of was that his big brother had died alone and frightened, convinced he’d failed to protect the love of his life and his long awaited heir.

He stared hopelessly and helplessly at his brother’s unmoving form, taken with an insane urge to leap forward and shake him, to demand he awaken.

Sherrinford had been the only one to ever understand him. The only one who had truly knew what made Mycroft tick. Unlike Sherlock and Alcott, who had always viewed him with shifting levels of love tainted by animosity, annoyance, and indignation, Sherrinford had always treated him as a naïve, callow younger brother whom he still needed to check up on. The dratted man had always been correcting his speech and vocabulary, his outfits and hair.

It struck Mycroft quite suddenly that his hair was wrong. Sherrinford would never be seen as anything less than perfectly groomed and he couldn’t help the way his feet stuttered forward, a less then level hand carefully, reverently, combing through tangled hair until it laid in Sherrinford’s usual style.

He pulled back a moment later, but only found to his horror that he had only managed to make the pale, dead thing look even more like his brother. The Alpha looked years younger in death and it’s that thought that managed to break the normally iron-clad man’s will. He let out a choked sound, turning away from the body, biting fiercely into his knuckle.

Pain blossomed across his skin but it did little to ground him.  

Mycroft’s was terrified. He had never been without Sherrinford. Even his earliest memory was of him.

He had been lying awake in his bed, curled tightly around his teddy as a raging storm shook their mansion so hard that he, at two, believed it was about to fly apart. He was quiet, of course, because he was a Holmes and that’s how Holmes behaved. Even at two, he knew the rules. That didn’t stop him from shaking, hiding his tears against the soft, fuzzy warmth of Mister Bear.

When Mycroft felt like he was about to truly die from fear he had felt warm hands on his small body, detangling him from his blanket and lifting him up gently. He could still remember the sheer relief and joy that had come from seeing his much older brother. At seven, Sherrinford Holmes already looked almost exactly as he would in adulthood, just smaller in dimensions. Mycroft had linked his hands around his neck, burying his face in the older Alpha's neck and let him carry him into his room. 

_“I’m scwared, Sher’fowd.”_ He’d whimpered and Sherrinford had scoffed and settled him down on the plush cushions on the large sette that was stretched in front of a roaring fireplace. Mycroft had shuddered, grey eyes wide and terrified at the deep rumbles. He had crawled up into the older boy’s lap, pressing his wet and snotty nose into the crook of his brother’s neck and shoulder. The seven year old didn’t seem disturbed by the sudden stickiness, deftly wrapping a knit blanket around Mycroft body and head as if it was an oversized cloak. His word had narrowed down to the warmth of Sherrinford’s body and scent, the heat of the fireplace at his back and the soft pitch of his brother’s voice.

 _“Don’t be silly, My,"_ Sherrinford had replied dryly, _“lightning and thunder is nothing more than an atmospheric-”_

Mycroft had fallen asleep to the sound of statistics and science that he couldn’t begin to understand, curled tightly around Sherrinford, and had felt utterly safe. It had never mattered how old he had gotten; when he had been utterly, stupidly terrified of learning how to drive, when he had graduated from university, the first time he’d manipulated the Prime Minister into doing what he wanted and had been convinced he’d been too transparent, every time he’d felt out of his depth with Sherlock or Alcott; all it had ever taken was the even, well-spoken words of his brother to calm him.

They may have frequently failed to see eye to eye (Mycroft felt no urge to…to… _display_ like Sherrinford had and Sherrinford had been appalled by Mycroft's apparent plainness) but the older Alpha had always known what the family needed. Every blunder of youth and inexperience of Mycroft’s had been covered and erased by him and in doing so, Sherrinford had taught him the skill needed to repeat those actions with their younger brothers when he'd grown too busy with the business or running the estates.

Sherrinford had always known how to pull Papa back when the uber-Alpha pushed too hard at too distant sons, knew how to force Mummy to see past her work and make time for lunch with each of her children at least once a month. It had been Sherrinford who had manipulated Mycroft into taking vacations, had hidden his phone and conspired with Anthea to make sure he ate three meals a day and tea. It was Sherrinford who had first tracked Sherlock down when he’d disappeared in the homeless underground, his brilliant eyes lost behind a film of ecstasy and confusion and coaxed him, screaming and indignant, back to reality. Sherrinford, who had forced Mycroft to stop trying to arrange a bonding for Alcott and single handedly saved his relationship with his youngest brother.

How was Mycroft supposed to even begin to emulate that?

For the first time in years, Mycroft found himself utterly afraid and unprepared. Sherlock resented his very _existence_ and Alcott dodged his phone calls and messages doggedly. Alarm and inadequacy flared in his chest; brute forced and ugly and all consuming. And Mummy no more listened to him then she did to anyone.

He simply couldn’t be the head of the family.

He just…he just _couldn’t._

How was he supposed to – where did Mycroft even begin to –

In his pocket, his mobile began to blared Mahler's 8th. Sherlock’s ringtone and Mycroft let out a hitching breath as he stared at it. _He knows_. Somehow, Sherlock had to know. And if he didn’t? What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to tell him? The ringtone faded off as it queued to voicemail, but only seconds later it began again.

 _Answer the phone, Mycroft,_ a voice that sounded entirely too much like it belonged to the still form on the slab behind him, _tell your brother what has happened to me,_  and the Alpha thumb pressed down unreasonably hard on the little green phone symbol.

For an extended moment there was silence and then, “is it true, Mycroft?”

Sherlock’s voice was completely level but the soft shaping of his name, the strange ache that seemed to form around ‘My’ and the hollow dip of ‘croft’ did not escape him. And somehow, despite the clawing fear he felt, Mycroft found the strength to relate the entire incident in a smooth, balanced manner.

“…when are you two coming home?”

 “Soon.”

“You will come – all three of you – to Baker Street.”

“First thing.” The elder Alpha agreed, careful to keep his voice free of any compassion or pity that may set the moody Alpha off and cause him to revoke his invitation. It was as close to a declaration of need that Sherlock could manage.

“You will keep them safe?”

And it was that – the way Sherlock had stated it as less of question and more of a statement, as if fully confident in Mycroft’s ability to protect their dwindling pack, that caused something deep inside him to harden like tempered steel. Resolve suddenly swamped the anxiety and Mycroft turned to stare at Sherrinford’s still form, the hand holding the mobile tightening.

“Naturally.”

He would keep them all safe.

If it was the last thing he did, Mycroft would not allow anything to harm his family again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's the first branch off into actually making this a -verse. Did you like? Poor Mycroft. I just love putting this guy through the paces, don't I?


	3. Disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though the Alpha knew this outcome would happen, he could not fight the biting disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed. Not britpicked.
> 
> Been a while since I've touched this series, but I've got the whole of Mycroft planned out.
> 
> Mycroft - 42, Sherlock - 35, Alcott - 31.

**March 4 th, 2011**

Mycroft made his way quietly up the stairs, a tray with tea and his youngest brother's favorite biscuits on it, and gently nudged the door to Alcott's room open. Alcott was sitting where he had left him this morning, staring out the window in an old armchair Mycroft had rescued from an antique shop in Wales, bruised face blank. From the angle the Omega sat, he could easily see the whole of the cottage's frontyard and where Anthea and John were playing with Rishley and the gamekeeper's dog.

The house was one of the Holmes' main vacation homes, this one settled out in depths of the Irish countryside and though it bore the name 'Rosewood Cottage,' it was more of a small manor home than anything else. It was Mycroft's favorite of all their homes and he often retreated here when he needed time away or to think uninterrupted. It was, the Alpha supposed, his safe place; it was where he'd taken Sherlock after Victor to detox. So it made a certain amount of sense that he had fled here with his wounded brother after Sherrinford's death. They both needed sometime away from the memories of London, especially Alcott who was mourning not only their eldest brother but his some-what boyfriend, James Bond.

If the Omega had been distraught and emotional after the car wreck, the news of the double-Os death had utterly broken him. Mycroft gently set the tray down, mixing up a cup just how his youngest brother liked it. He brought it over to him, voice steady and insistent as he offered it.

"Drink this." Pale greens eyes, lifeless and without any of the normal glimmer of intelligence they held, looked up at him blankly before slowly reaching out and taking the cup. Mycroft nodded, pleased. “That's a good boy.”

“Mummy’s coming up the drive.” Mycroft’s head snapped up, glancing through the window to see that there was indeed a car pulling up. “I don’t want to talk to her, My.”

The Alpha forced himself to take a deep, calming breath through his nose and gently pushed his brother’s bangs from his forehead in a soothing motion that he'd done often throughout Alcott's childhood. “Stay up here, I’ll handle it.”

Just what the hell was Olivia thinking? Even if Mycroft had the time to have hidden the audio of Bond’s mission, there was little doubt in his mind that Alcott still would have found it, and the Omega was besides himself at the thought that his own mother had given the orders that lead to his probable mate's death. The Alpha closed the door quietly, straightening his waistcoat before moving back towards the foyer. The Holmes boys’ relationship with their parents was…complicated…across the board, to say the least.

To be honest it was fairly generous to say that there was a relationship at all. While it had been better to some extent for Sherlock – and better still, for Alcott as their parents had aged and grown more secure in their positions - they were most absent from their childhoods.

It was fair to say that all four had been closer to their father, but it had been a companionship that had grown between two adults rather than a sire and his pups. When Siger had retired he’d made a real effort to connect with his distant children. But from their mother...for the most part it had been too little, too late. Mycroft’s earliest memories revolved almost solely around Sherrinford and he knew that they both taken over the brunt of raising their younger brothers. So it made sense in many ways that with Sherrinford gone and Alcott hurting, both his boys had drawn closer to him then Olivia, though he knew his mother did not view that with much kindness.

Alcott was arguably closest to his mother out of them all – perhaps because they were both Omegas – but it was often a vicious, unhealthy relationship. Olivia was constantly fighting to keep her youngest close and Alcott struggled underneath the domineering woman’s hold. As misguided as it was, Mycroft knew that it was her way of trying to maintain a relationship with the only one of her children Olivia thought she had a chance with; her Omega son.

Sherrinford had been a married man many times over and Mycroft well established in his own household when his mother began to spend more time in London, and Sherlock stubbornly refused to have anything to do with her. But at the time his mother had taken the reins at MI6, Alcott was still young enough to need to live with an adult and the acceptable societal choice was his parents. But teenagers rarely craved the input of their fathers or mothers and Alcott had been on the very cusps of adulthood. The living situation had been tense for everyone.

Mycroft met Olivia on the covered porch, standing in the front entryway, arms clasped behind his back. She stood at the bottom of the steps, her hands resting in her pockets as she stared up at him. “Mycroft.”

“Mummy.”

“How is he?”

“You killed his Alpha.”

“They were not-”

“They would have been.”

There was a long silence, the lines along Olivia’s mouth and eyes growing tight. “This outcome was never my intention, Mycroft, but I did what I needed to protect this country. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

“I wouldn’t lead with that, if I was you.” A sharp voice said and Mycroft sighed as Sherlock came around the corner, a fierce frown on his face. Thank god he’d had the good sense to leave Watson behind.

Olivia did not look pleased. “Sherlock. I was not aware you’d left London.”

The smile his brother gifted their mother was sharp. “Surprise.”

Olivia sighed, shaking her head before moving up the stairs. “I’m not here to fight with you, I’m here to see Ally. Move.” Mycroft did not, bracing himself for a very uncomfortable conversation. “Mycroft, move.”

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

His mother froze, glancing up on at him disbelief. “Mycroft.” She let out an awkward laugh, “move.”

“No.”

"Mycroft Lesley Holmes-”

“I really don’t understand what the misconception here is.” Sherlock announced coldly, stepping around their mother and onto the porch until he was standing just behind Mycroft in a not so subtle show of support. “Alcott doesn't want you here. Leave.”

And with that, the Alpha turned on his heel and stalked back into the house. Mycroft sighed. Sherlock had always been protective of Alcott. He was the baby of the family, the only Omega, and with five years between Sherlock, twelve with Mycroft, and nearly eighteen with Sherrinford, they all had been protective and possessive. How could they not be? It had been they that Alcott had first walked to, they he had said his first words to, and it was to them he went when hurt or scared or sick.

But still…she was their  _mother._ “Mummy-”

“No.” Olivia said, stepping back from the step. “Your brother has made it clear enough how you two feel about this.” The Omega was hurt though she hid it well, but she was his mother and Mycroft knew her too well to miss it. She took a few steps towards her car before turning around, face tense. “I did not plan on Bond dying, but he was a double-O and he knew the risks of the job. I won’t apologize.”

Mycroft sighed, shifting his own hands into his pockets, his thumbs resting outside against the tweed.

“No one is asking you to. I understand your position well enough.” And that was a truth, as Mycroft’s own orders had sent more than enough men and women to their deaths. The good of the whole must always triumph over the individual. “You may see him when he wishes it. But I am sorry, it will not be before."

“I am Alcott’s mother.” Olivia said sharply, “not you.”

The Alpha stiffened, eyes narrowing. “Do you want to know what the difference between you and I is? I would never have called that shot. I have always done everything in my power to protect them – and that means keeping John Watson and James Bond _safe._ Goodbye, Mother.”

He shut the door with a definite click and stood in the foyer of his home, spine straight and pulse sharp, until he heard the sound of the car pulling away. Only then did Mycroft allow himself to go loose, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.  _That_ , the Alpha thought with no small amount of despair, _could have gone better._

“Is she gone?” Sherlock asked, appearing from the kitchen.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“No, Sherlock, it is _not good.”_

The younger Alpha frowned. “I don’t know why you insist on continuing this charade.”

“Because she is our mother,” Mycroft said, scoffing in frustration.

“Why must everything be so cookie-cutter with you? I may fall outside the normal spectrum, but even I know that our family hardly counts as loving or nurturing.”

“That’s not the point-”

“Than what, pray tell, is ‘the point?’”

“The point is that she is our mother, Sherlock!” Mycroft hissed, “she’s our mother and in case you haven’t noticed we are _running out of family._ She is my mother, and one brother is dead and another is broken and right now she hates me as a usurper. I know it is impossible for you to begin to comprehend human emotion outside of lust, but please do try and understand my position.”

There was a long silence in which the two Alphas stared each other down before Sherlock finally looked away, focusing on a print on the wall instead of admitting total deference and staring at the ground. Mycroft let out another bone weary sigh. Despite everything that had happened, he had still hoped that something between he and Olivia might blossom. No, he was not naive enough to ever expect the picture perfect relationship between a carrier and their pup, but _something._ Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that once in his life, Mycroft would have liked to see one of his progenitors chose them over their work, even if it was not himself chosen.

Though the Alpha knew this outcome would happen, he could not fight the biting disappointment. He could not understand what it was that made them all so easy to ignore or shrug off. Why had they bothered having children if they never intended to be a part of their lives? Despite all of his disdain for emotion or sentiment, Mycroft had always put his pups first, as had Sherrinford, and he would continue to do so even it meant burning every bridge he attempted to build with his mother.

“Mycroft.” Sherlock said after a moment, eyes still locked on the framed beetle print on the wall, “there is a reason Alcott came to you. Why I came to you after Victor.” Mycroft’s attention was completely captured, because even a decade after Victor was still a forbidden subject. Those startling bright eyes flickered over to glance at him. “She is wrong.”

It was as close to a ‘I love you’ from his brother that Mycroft was likely ever to get. The Alpha gave him a wan smile, trying to bury the ache and disappointment in his chest, and stepped into the kitchen. Perhaps he was destined to never have a loving relationship with his parents. They said that validation from one’s sire and carrier was something you could never really achieve, but it always started him how disappointed he was every time. After so many years, you would have thought that a man of Mycroft's intelligent would come to expect and accept that his mother's behavior would never change. And yet, there was some part of him that still hoped...

“Go and collect John from wherever it is you have stashed him, brother. I’ll put the kettle on.”

The younger Holmes nodded, his hand brushing against Mycroft’s elbow in a move so slight that on anyone else it would seem an accident. Coming from Sherlock, it meant much more.

No. Perhaps Mycroft would never have maternal love, but he had fraternal and that was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, family can be a terrible, wonderful thing.
> 
> Porn next chapter - clean and simple, and than finally some Mystrade.


	4. Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hated his ruts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed and not brit picked. 
> 
> Mycroft - 42

**March 20th, 2011**  
  
By the time Mycroft heard Anthea arrive at his townhouse, the Alpha was already in full rut. Unlike Omegas whose heat continued for a set amount of days regardless of whether or not a partner was present, an Alpha could cut a rut short with sex, even if they did not bond. And having already had to take half a day off and with his billit for tomorrow completely filled, he needed his rut over. Mycroft felt frustrated with his body's inconvenient demands, pacing the length of his bedroom, completely naked. His swollen and angry cock weaving and bobbing with each step.

He hated his ruts.  
  
Oh, Mycroft knew he was luckier than most. He had never had to spend a rut alone; Siger and Sherrinford had seen to that, but he’d also never spent one with the same partner. And never with a male Omega. The reason for that was a secret so deeply buried not even Sherlock or Alcott knew about it. Because Mycroft had his own Victor Trevor.  
  
His name had been Joshua Lorne, the son of their cook, and nineteen to Mycroft’s fourteen. His features had been pure omegan; slim shoulders, a tiny waist that flared into full hips, and delicate features. With sandy blond hair, rich brown eyes, and an easy smile, Mycroft had been utterly besotted. The young Alpha had begun leaving gifts for Joshua. They were easy, almost cliché gifts (a pair of kid leather gloves, tickets to his favorite band for him and all his friends, a book of poetry) but expensive.  
  
Joshua had looked so pleased when he’d gotten them, giggling and grinning happily as he used his presents in full view of Mycroft. And in return, Joshua began to leave him sweet notes. It had been their secret. No one knew of their blossoming romance and when Mycroft’s first rut had hit, the young Alpha had met his Omega in the empty stable hand's apartment and consummated their love.  
  
Mycroft had been over the moon, convinced that this was his future, starry eyed with dreams of a home in London with Joshua, a seat in parliament, children with their mixed features, and so much more. It had seemed so possible then, and the illusion was only embellished by the lack of any adult family members in the home. Every day when he returned home from school, he was met with his much younger brothers and Joshua busily working in the kitchen. A vision of the future, Mycroft had thought.  
  
But then a week after his rut had passed, Mycroft had come home to find that the Lorne family had taken up employment with another family – in South Africa. Sherrinford was also home from university, waiting for him in his study. Mycroft had nearly hit him, convinced that either Sherrinford or his parents had taken Joshua away from him. Sherrinford had said nothing as Mycroft yelled and ranted, only watched him with the most peculiar expression before pouring and offering the younger Alpha his first glass of whiskey, the tumbler nearly filled to the brim.  
  
It was then that Mycroft began to realize his family had not sent anyone away.  
  
His brother had explained in a level tone that Joshua had apparently found a way to record their time together and had approached Sherrinford in London that morning, threatening to sell the video if the family did not pay. The Omega had never had any intention of settling with a fourteen year old; Mycroft had only ever been a means to an end. But his brother had handled it as he always did; the tape was destroyed, Joshua received nothing, and the Lorne family had been so far removed that it was a guarantee Mycroft would never see them again.  
  
They had sat in a long, long silence after that – Sherrinford smoking calmly while Mycroft fought though his emotions, his face deceptively clam and controlled despite that he had never felt so alone before in the entity of his life. The next day when Sherrinford returned to his flat in London, his younger brothers went with him. They were never left without an adult living in the home again.  
  
The door to Mycroft’s room opened and he glanced up to find an attractive female Omega smirking at him. She was tall and thin, her hair a fiery red that curled around shoulders. She wore a Burberry trench and high black stilettos and smelled pleasantly ripe. The agency said her name was ‘Helen’ and she was one of the highest paid escorts in the country, known not only for her beauty and charm, but for her silence.  
  
“My, my,” Helen cooed, shutting the door behind her as she untied the belt of her trench. It fell open to reveal a black lace and mesh teddy, fitted so tightly to her body it may as well have been painted on, and a pair of sheer stocking attached to a garter. Mycroft's cock ached with a vengeance at the sight. "Look at you, big boy. Why don't I-"  
  
He surged forward, interrupting her as he spun and pinned her roughly again the door. He tore off the silken panties, sheathing himself into the already prepped and ready pussy in one violent move. The Omega cried out, her body curving into the classic lordosis position as he fucked her so hard the door creaked and moaned, his hands brusing around wide hips.  
  
Her hands clawed desperately at the varnished mahogany, the sounds of her moans and mews driving his overtaxed body to the edge quickly. Mycroft bit deep into the back of her neck, well aware Helen had been paid extra for the privilege, and the Omega tighten with orgasm around him. He came with a bellow, knot swelling and locking them together, and the Alpha slumped over her form, finally relieved.  
  
"Jesus, sweetheart," Helen breathed, "don't let anyone tell you that you don't know how to show an Omega a good time."  
  
Mycroft rolled his eyes at the cliché talk, but shuddered at the feel of his knot shrinking, the rush of hormones and testosterone of his rut driving it down far quicker than the norm, and he pulled out. Helen let out a squeak of surprise as he turned her and physically threw her across the room and onto his bed. She bounced a few times, her wide eyed expression shifting into giggles at the motion. He stalked over to her, his Alpha pride swelling as she took in his well toned form. Like most Alphas, Mycroft had a driving urge to stay fit (though you'd hardly know it from the cut of his suits) and his inheritance ensured he was very well endowed. The Omega's eyes locked on his still very hard arousal, a tongue darting out over full lips in an obscene movement, and Mycroft's lips twisted in a dark smile at the scent of lust - genuine, not the manufactured kind that she had lubed herself with earlier - filled the air.  
  
He fisted the back of her hair and sheathing his cock down her throat in one, smooth motion. He groaned, eyes closing at the tight, warm sensation, and began a brutal pace. Helen's hands flew up to his hips for balance, humming and moaning, the vibrations traveling up his dick so wonderfully. The Alpha took his time, fucking her mouth slowly and methodically, than quick and sloppily. Whatever pace Mycroft wished until he forced himself down to the root, her painted lips stretched around the base flair of his knot as he filled her. When he pulled away she was gasping, looking dazed, and Mycroft pushed her flat on her back, hitching her legs up over his shoulders as he pushed into her - knot and all - while pressing against her clit cruelly. She contracted viciously around him, back bowing as the Omega's knotting muscles reflexively locked around him, forcing her into an orgasm.  
  
He waited until she had gone limp underneath him, pliant and satisfied, before beginning to fuck her in truth. Helen gasped, her hips pulling back as if to retreat, but the Alpha halted it with a firm grip around her throat, pinning her in place as Mycroft took everything she had to offer. Helen had become so wet that the room was filled with the dirty suctioning sounds that could never be mistaken as anything else but a cock fucking a wet hole and Mycroft's rut tainted mind howled with it.  
  
"Alpha!" Helen cried, head thrashing about as he pushed her into another orgasm far too soon and he knew that she must be so oversensitive that it bordered on pain. Mycroft hardly cared. He pulled out, twisting her onto all fours before driving back in, grunting and panting harshly as he sought after his third orgasm. It hit him all at once, so strong that it nearly took his vision, and Mycroft dug his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder, his jaws aching to claim. Helen screamed, clenching down around him, hands clawing at the bed sheets until she'd pulled them from the mattress.

His knot shrunk even faster with the scent of their activities and the Alpha hardly paused before flipping her onto her stomach and beginning again.  
  
He took her so many times that night that Mycroft could hardly remember them all, only small flashes of images. He fucked her on her back, her knees, hanging only from his cock and her own desperate grip against the wall. He tied her over his desk and on his desk chair, in the shower, across the bathroom counter, against the tightly curtained and drawn windows of his room, pressed face first in the carpet until they were both covered with rug burn. Took her until their hair was a tangled mess, her makeup smeared and debauched, their bodies a pattern of scratches and bruises. Took her until she was completely fucked out, face slack with pleasure and body limp beneath his thrusts.  
  
When the morning came and his rut ended, it found Mycroft finally sated. He stood before his mirror, freshly showered and groomed, securing his cuff links. Perfectly manicured hands slid across his waist, a pair of lips pressing against the patch of skin left exposed above his collar. The Omega smelled utterly of him, Helen's natural scent drenched almost into nothingness.  
  
"Come on, love," Helen cooed, fingers stroking his silk tie, "why don't you take the day off and come back to bed? You have to be tired. I'll stay a bit if you like." Mycroft shook his head and the Omega smiled as she slipped around to his front. "A hard worker, huh? I like that." She licked her lips, eyes locked on his Adam's apple, just centered enough to hide how she was eyeing his bonding lymph note. "I don't normally do this but," a card was pressed into his suit pocket, "here’s my personal number - and my real name. Give me a call sometime; maybe we can grab dinner or something."  
  
There was the press of soft lips under his jaw - a submissive appeasement act designed to call to his inner possessive instincts - before Helen pulled away and disappeared into his bathroom. Mycroft waited until he heard the shower start before pulling the card out _(Trisha, 2578-9190)_  and dropped it neatly in the bedroom trash. The Alpha pulled on his waist coat and blazer and left, mind already focused on his first meeting with the Japanese ambassador.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think she ever noticed Mycroft didn't say one thing to her the entire time?
> 
> Next chapter Greg finally makes his appearance.


	5. Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And yet…there was something interesting about Lestrade, something that made him impossible to forget completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, bros. I'm on a roll with updating lately.
> 
> The start of the Mystrade! Hurray!
> 
> Un-betaed.
> 
> Lestrade - 45, Mycroft - 42.

**April 1st,  2011**

It would seem that fate was damned and determined to involve Gregory Lestrade in his life, Mycroft mused as he leaned on his cane, observing the still figure that sat forlornly on the park bench. Lestrade had yet to notice the Alpha’s presence, his hands mindlessly shredding a piece of bread and tossing it to the pigeons, his face utterly lost in thought.

The first time Mycroft Holmes had met Lestrade, the year was nineteen eighty-five, he’d been eighteen years old and tearing his London flat apart in a desperate search for his brothers. Sherlock had been particularly annoying  that day and Mycroft was right in the middle of finals for university and so he’d locked them out of his study. When Mycroft had emerged a few hours later for tea, he’d been dumbfounded to find the house empty of his boys and not a one of the staff capable of providing their locations.

_“What the hell do you mean, you don’t know?” Mycroft snarled, hands fisting at his side and the collective wince from his house staff did little to calm his fury. Not even the plaintive whimpers of the staff Omegas affected him. Mycroft rarely lost his temper and certainly never before with the staff._

_Sherlock had only recently had his eleventh birthday and Alcott was not even six yet, and the thought of them out in the world (on what they undoubtedly viewed as a great adventure) unprotected was so terrifying that the young Alpha found his heart beating wildly in his chest._

_“You’re fired – all of you – and if anything happens to my brothers I assure that not only will you never find a job again, but you’ll be brought up on legal charges!” He bellowed furiously, “you have five minutes to get your things and then I want you_ out!”

_He paced the foyer as they scrambled about, mind racing as he tried to imagine anywhere that Sherlock – and it had to have been Sherlock behind this – would have gone off to. Instead his mind only provided horrifying  images of his pups hurt and lost or god forbid something worse._

_Sherrinford was in Europe on the third month of his honeymoon, but he called every night promptly at six o’clock and again at nine, regardless of what time zone the elder Holmes was in, to speak with them before dinner and to wish them goodnight. It was already five-forty and there was no way that Mycroft was going to answer the phone and inform Sherrinford that he’d lost their siblings._

_Growing with a mix of anger and anxiety Mycroft stormed to the front door, not even bothering to grab his suit jacket or an umbrella, already forming a list of places to start looking. The library first – it was just down the street, then the park, and then the museums. The Alpha swung the door open and nearly ran into the raised fist that was poised to knock._

_A constable stood on his stoop (male Omega, unbonded, twenty to twenty-two, well liked, works too many hours, sloppy eater if the stain on his collar was anything to go by) his uniform in the process of being drooled on by a completely passed out Alcott. Sherlock was by the Omega’s side, the back of his jumper held in a fierce but gentle grip. Both boys were covered head to toe in mud. And just like that the panic and worry drained out of him, leaving Mycroft suddenly exhausted and terribly relieved._

_“Hello there.” The constable greeted, giving Mycroft a wide smile. “I take these belong to you?”_

_“Yes,” Mycroft said dryly, glaring down at an unrepentant looking Sherlock, “my younger brothers. I had just discovered they were gone, in fact.”_

_“Found 'em a couple blocks down at the park, happy as can be in a mud puddle.”_

_The tiny Alpha puffed his chest up, eyes narrowing as he refused to be cowed by the disapproving stare that earned him. “You were being boring. I wanted to go exploring.”_

_Mycroft scowled. “I don’t care how boring I’m being, you know you’re not allowed out of the backyard without permission. What were you thinking? And taking your brother with you? What if something had happened?”_

_“Just because he’s an Omega doesn’t mean he doesn’t get bored, too. None of this would have happened if you had just played with me.” Sherlock said, staring up at his elder brother impudently, “and nothing happened, obliviously.”_

_Mycroft rolled his eyes, reaching out and pulling the pup in by his dirty collar. “We’ll be discussing an appropriate punishment later, but for now straight to the bathroom and don’t touch anything.”_

_His brother stiffened. “I see no reason for me to take a bath.”_

_“Sherlock-”_

_“If I take a bath I’ll ruin the experiment, I can’t be around soap of any kind if I want the fungus I gathered in my hair to grow correctly and-”_

_“Sherlock.”_

_“- it took me a half hour to get the levels right and if I bathe it will completely destroy everything! The entire reason of my trip to the park, which by your own words you most likely won’t let me be repeating, was to see if when dirty enough you really could grow mushrooms behind you're ears. And so as you can see-”_

_He reached out, a warning growl rippling from his chest as he gripped the mouthy brat lightly on the back of the nape. Sherlock’s excuses faded off with a pout. “Do not try me, not after this. Bathroom. Now.”_

_Mycroft let out a put upon sigh as the pup did so, dragging his feet and hands across as many surfaces as he could, leaving smears of dirt and mud everywhere in direct defiance to his earlier statement. The Alpha sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration before turning back to the constable and reaching out to take a still slumbering Alcott._

_“Precocious little Alpha, in’t he?” The police officer asked as he carefully handed his brother over._

_“You have no idea.” Mycroft muttered, accepting the still form. The tiny pup let out a whimper, struggling slightly before inhaling a deep whiff of Mycroft’s natural scent and going limp in his arms, snuggling into the older Holmes’ chest. He ran a hand down a mud-caked jumper, uncaring of the mess, and let himself take a moment to enjoy his brother in his arms, safe and unharmed. “Thank you again, Constable…”_

_“Lestrade,” the Omega said with a half cocked grin, watching the two of them with a fond look. “One of your folks home, by any chance?”_

_“Our parents are currently out of the country,” Mycroft explained, shifting Alcott into a better grip. “I am of age, however, as is my eldest brother – of whom this flat belongs to – and we’ve been given legal permission to act as guardians.”_

_“I see.” The constable pulled out a notebook, “I’m just going to have to ask you some questions, for the report. ‘Fraid I’ll have to fill one out, what with minors out and about unsupervised.”_

_That was annoying, as it meant that Sherrinford would most definitely find out about the incident, but it would mean little else, and so he answered the questions without hesitation. It only took a handful of moments, though the Omega paused at the sight of so many of his newly unemployed staff exiting from the kitchen door._

_“They are no longer employed here.” Mycroft answered preemptively._

_“Ah.” Constable Lestrade flipped his notebook shut, before offering his hand. “Well, that’s all I needed from you, Mr. Holmes. Try to keep a better eye on your brothers, if you please.”_

_“Most certainly.” Mycroft took the offered hand, eyebrows rising minutely when the grip lasted longer then polite, a playful squeeze added on at the end. He looked up to find the Omega grinning at him, the smile all teeth._

_“Say, would you like to grab dinner sometime?”_

_The Alpha blinked in surprise, momentarily thrown. Constable Lestrade was attractive enough. He was a shy shorter than Mycroft, with short, raven hair and bright, playful brown eyes and he could still smell the Omega’s scent – gentle and thick, pleasing, with something earthy (though that could have been the mud) to it – wrapped around Alcott. But he had little time (or want) to indulge in such dalliances and so he politely declined._

_“Ah, well. Can’t blame a bloke for trying.” The constable said cheerfully, giving him a wink before turning and heading down the stairs. Mycroft stared after him, head cocked slightly to the side in thought before a crash from the upstairs bathroom both drew his attention away and woke a now very cranky looking Alcott._

They wouldn’t meet again until nearly fifteen years later, when a terribly serious Sherrinford had called Mycroft, his tone so unlike his normal jovial one, and gave him an address. It had turned out to be the entrance to an abandoned subway maintenance tunnel, the mouth wide and yawning as it had reached into the darkness like the gates to hell. Sherlock had been missing for almost three weeks at this point,  and none of Mycroft considerable sources had been able to locate him. It seemed that Sherrinford had better luck with his and the two Holmes had arrived simultaneously. Both Alphas had been devastated at the sight of a limp and pale Sherlock crumbled on the ground.

_His brother was shirtless, eyes glossy and unseeing as he stared up at the sky, protected from the winter air only by a pair of ragged pants and a peacoat that obviously did not belong to him. Sherlock was practically in the lap of a plain clothed police officer, the man talking rapidly into his cell phone as his free hand ran up and down the unmoving Alpha’s body, trying to warm him, and as Mycroft grew closer he was surprised to realize he recognized the man._

_It was the very same constable – now promoted – that had brought his brothers home so many years ago. Gregory Lestrade looked much as he did before, though his hair held streaks of grey now and his scent clearly bore the markers of a mate._

_“-unresponsive male in hypothermic shock, intravenous drug use suspected. I repeat – I have a white male, twenties, brown hair, grey eyes, in hypothermic shock and possible overdose. Request a bus to – where the hell are we?”_

_“An ambulance is unnecessary,” Sherrinford said abruptly, plucking their unresponsive brother from the Inspector’s lap, “I have government decals, I won’t be stopped. I’m taking him to the Royal London. Handle this and meet me there, Mycroft.”_

_“Oy!” The Omega snapped, eyes flashing furiously as he jumped to his feet, “you just can’t-”_

_Mycroft stepped smoothly in front of him, blocking his charge at Sherrinford as his brother carefully slid Sherlock into the back of his car. For the family – and Sherlock’s – sake it was best if this went undocumented and Mycroft felt his calm return as he slipped into the familiar role of manipulator._

_“I thank you for your aid, Inspector Lestrade, but Sherlock is our brother and I can guarantee you that he will be looked after.”_

_“How the hell do you know my name?”_

_“Allow me to reintroduce myself, Mycroft Holmes.” The Alpha said smoothly, offering a gloved hand. “We met some years ago, when you delivered my brothers to my home.”_

_Lestrade took the offered hand, though his entire body was tense and suspicious. “…so we did. I seem to recall telling you take better care of your brothers, Mr. Holmes.”_

_A lesser man would have winced at that. As it was, Mycroft’s facial expression didn’t even twitch. “I assure you, Inspector, I strive to do little else but care for Sherlock.”_

_“Well you’re doing a bang up job of it.” Lestrade bit out around clenched teeth. The Alpha let his eyes sweep over the shivering man’s form, eyes resting for only a moment on the slight swell beneath the button up. The Omega blinked in surprise as Mycroft settled his own wool trench around his shoulders, deft fingers buttoning the coat up. “I couldn’t-”_

_“Don’t be preposterous," Mycroft insisted firmly, “there is no way I could allow a pregnant Omega freeze to death before me – especially not if my brother was to be the cause of it.”_

_“Oh.” The aggression seemed to bleed out of the Inspector's form, a hand coming up to run through short, salt and pepper locks as he sighed. “Thank you then. But this doesn’t change the fact that you can’t just walk off with someone like that. Your brother needs immediate medical care.”_

_“He will be cared for, I assure you. Sherrinford will make sure he receives everything he needs.” Mycroft soothed, guiding the Omega away from the open tunnel mouth and towards the warmth of his waiting car. “I see that you were walking when you found my brother – off duty, no less – the least I can do is offer you a ride home.”_

_“Not home, the yard. I’ve got to fill out a report about this.”_

_"I’m afraid that is rather impossible.”_

_Lestrade stared up at him, half bent from where he was beginning to climb into the car. “What – no, I mean,  there has to be a report. I called it, I gave them by badge number. I can’t just not report this.”_

_“You may fill out a report if you so chose, Inspector Lestrade, but it would be gone by the time you returned to work tomorrow.” The Alpha said it with such certainty – because it was the only outcome - t_ _hat Lestrade seemed to sense the truth of it._

_The Omega sighed, shaking his head. “Funny, my last report got ‘lost’ too. You Holmes sure are something else.”_

_Mycroft gave him a sympathetic smile. “I assure you outside of my brother’s addiction nothing untoward happened here today – nor all those years ago. There is, quite simply, nothing to report. Now, shall I drive you home?”_

_“Might as well,” the Inspector said, slipping into the car, “I don’t think I have much a choice in the matter.”_

_“There are always choices,” Mycroft corrected gently as he shut the door, the heated air in the cabin a soothing balm after the cutting chill of London in Winter, “they’re just not all correct ones.”_

_Lestrade snorted, shooting the Holmes a rather unimpressed look, before giving the driver his address._

Mycroft had truly thought that would be the end of it. After all, it was already quite an astounding play on fate that they had met a second time. But it seemed that while the elder Holmes were quite willing to forget Gregory Lestrade completely, the Inspector was not quite as eager.

The Omega kept in contact with Sherlock, keeping an eye on him throughout the decade struggle that followed to get his brother clean and finally off drugs. And when Sherlock entered his third year drug-free, he’d offered him an unofficial job as a ‘consulting detective' with the yard. Mycroft had participated in only a handful of interactions with him over the last six years, most of them revolving around getting updates about Sherlock, as the surly Alpha had never quite forgiven Mycroft for helping him and was damned and determined to keep him out of as much of his life as he could. And even those meetings were sparse things, barely lasting longer than fifteen minutes.

And yet…there was something interesting about Lestrade, something that made him impossible to forget completely. Perhaps it was his scent (such a rich, yet mild thing) or the easy way he’d smiled at Mycroft all those years ago. Perhaps it was his unending patience and genuine care Lestrade gave to Sherlock – there was certainly no arguing that the detective was quite likely his little brother's only friend before John Watson.

Perhaps it was the part of the Alpha that always wondered what would have happened if he’d accepted that dinner invitation.

Mycroft straightened his scarf, standing slightly taller before making his way over to where the despondent Omega was sitting, staring mournfully out over the park. “Lestrade, what a pleasant surprise.”

Dark eyes blinked up at him, surprise leveling the wrinkles that age had brought. The years had made his hair completely silver and his body – while still fit as the job required – bore the soft, rounding curves of an Omega who’d given birth. Yet Mycroft still found him quite handsome, even with a day old stubble and emotionally reddened nose and eyes that stared up at him.

“Mycroft, hey.” Lestrade said softly, looking away as he wiped at his face discretely, letting out a somewhat pathetic sounding laugh. “Wear some bells or something, will you? I’m not a young man anymore.”

He did not need the fading scent marker of Lestrade’s Alpha wife to figure out why the D.I. Was so upset. There was little that happened around his brother that Mycroft Holmes did not know about, so even though he hadn’t spoke in person to the Omega in nearly eight months, he had known the moment the Lestrade-Wheelock household had gone into couples therapy, nearly a year ago. He had known months before the D.I. that his Alpha – an older, shapely blonde by the name of Ashley – had begun an affair with a much younger Omega. One of her interns, stereotypically enough.

And Mycroft knew that today had been the first meeting of what would most likely be a very lengthy and painful custody battle. The state almost always sided with the Omega or Beta mother in these types of cases, but Lestrade had the bad luck of being left by one of the foremost divorce barristers in London.

The Alpha sat down on the cold bench, careful to keep his eyes forward to maintain the illusion of privacy for the distraught man.

“I, uh,” the Omega cleared his throat roughly, “don’t have anything new on Sherlock, so if that’s…I mean...” his shoulders slumped, “…yeah.”

“I didn’t come about Sherlock.” Mycroft assured, finally turning to face the older man now that Lestrade had managed some manner of composure.

“You…didn’t?”

“No.” The Alpha answered as he leaned forward, resting his weight on his cane, “I was wondering if it wasn't too late to take you up on your dinner offer.”

Lestrade stared at him for a long moment in confusion before recoiling slightly in understanding, face flashing through several emotions – confusion, disbelief, suspicion – before settling on a shy, pleased surprise and a faint, enticing blush that Mycroft decided instantly that he rather liked.

“Not too late, no."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked! Expect the Johnlock story of this series to be up soon, so keep a look out! Would love to see you all there!


	6. Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Omega’s presence was a pleasant distraction and surprisingly a rather calming one, and the attraction he felt towards Gregory was the strongest he'd ever felt towards anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut.
> 
> Oh yeah, and some romance.
> 
> But mostly smut.

**April 8th,  2011**

The Alain Ducasse at the Dorchester was one of Mycroft’s favorite restaurants and the Table Lumière, a semi-private dining table, served as the center piece of the restaurant. Hidden from sight by an oval curtain made by shimmering, lit white fiber optic cables, it provided the right amount of privacy without losing the atmosphere of the place.

The eldest Holmes ran a critical eye over the table setting, his personal waiter and the maître d' standing nervously at his elbow as he did so. The pristinely white table cloth had clearly been ironed, free of any wrinkles or blemishes. The table was set with the Dorchester’s unique Hermès china pattern ware and Puiforcat silverware, the crystal goblets (Saint-Louis, Mycroft’s favorite) gleaming in the soft light.

“Is everything to your liking, Mister Holmes?” The maître d’ inquired. The man (like most of the wait staff at upscale hotels and restaurants tended to be) was a Beta and in the traditional way of things, wore no cologne to distract from his mild, unassuming scent.

“It is acceptable,” Mycroft said, “thank you.”

“I am very pleased to hear that, sir.” The maître d' said with a genial smile, “I will retire to the front then, to wait for your guest.”

Mycroft dismissed him with a hand, before locking his eyes on the Beta waiter. His name was apparently ‘Jossaih,’ or some other artistic  nonsense, but his scent and posture was unassuming, his uniform perfectly in order and other then the slight twinge of nervousness in his stance, rather well put together.

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes still locked on the Beta, “take care my guest and I well tonight and I will see you handsomely rewarded. Shall you prove incompetent, I will have you fired. Are we understood?”

The Beta swallowed. “Yes, sir. Your guest, sir.”

Mycroft glanced up, straightening at the sight of the maître d' leading a slightly stunned looking Gregory towards him. Lestrade looked dashing in a grey trench coat, the well cut black suit just peeking out from under it. Mycroft stood as the waiter lead him over, giving the fidgeting man a smile as the maître d’ parted the curtain.

“I’m not late, am I?” Gregory asked, giving an awkward smile to the maître d’ as he handed him his coat and stepped to the side slightly as the waiter pulled his chair out.

“Not at all, I just happened to get out of my meeting early.” And if that had happened because Mycroft had decided none of his wardrobe would do and had an impromptu meeting with his tailor, Lestrade need not know. They both sat, listening as the waiter read off the day’s special and poured the wine – red, naturally – that Mycroft had already ordered.

The Alpha watched, feeling a warm blossom of affection as Lestrade’s eyes widened at the sight of the menu prices. Mycroft would be paying, of course, and he didn’t miss the impressed, yet exasperated look the Omega sent him. Gregory was fairly independent for a Omega, which was one of the reasons he’d captured Mycroft’s attention, and the Holmes had known that he had intended to make some attempt to pay for his dinner himself. The prices were far too high for the D.I.’s salary.

“You look stunning.” Mycroft complemented. He smelt wonderful, too. But that was far too forward to say, as the Omega’s natural scent was unadorned even by cologne.  

The grin he was rewarded with was crooked and incredibly charming. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Mycroft felt his lips tug slightly at the edges as those warm, chocolate eyes drifted over his seated form in a not so subtle once over. The dinner went by surprisingly quickly and the time was spent talking about everything that had happened between their interactions over the years. Most of it Mycroft already had known. Lestrade had graduated from an inner city school, then had been at the top of his class in the Yard training program, and worked his way through a sociology undergraduate and than a masters in the newly constructed criminology degree, both from the London MET. Mycroft in turn volunteered information about his own education – Cambridge, for all but one of his four degrees, Oxford for the last.

The conversation was spirited, if not overly taxing, and for once Mycroft found himself completely free of boredom even if the subjects they talked about were what he would usually consider dull. They ended the night with coffee and dessert, before the two headed back out into the London air. Gregory suggested going for a walk since the night was still young and he had the sitter for another hour.

“The kids like her,” the Omega said with a smile as they walked down the street, his eyes soft and fond, “she’s a good girl. A nice Beta, working her way through nursing school.” He dug out his phone, scrolling through the touch screen and pulling up a photo. He handed the phone to Mycroft, grinning with pride. “All three are Alphas, god help me. Alex is ten, Charlie eight, and Teddy is six.”

The pups all looked remarkably like Gregory, even the two females, but it was the youngest – the boy – that the relation was the most obvious. They all had Lestrade’s dark, curly hair and brown eyes, but Teddy was almost a perfect picture of his carrier. When he lost the baby fat, the youngest Alpha would look the spitting image of the Omega that had appeared on his door all those years ago.

Mycroft had already read the profiles Anthea had constructed about them. Alexa, called commonly ‘Alex’ in the tradition of giving female Alphas names with male nicknames, had a mid to high range intelligence, played keeper for her football team, and was currently seeing the school counselor twice a week for anger issues undoubtedly from her parents impending divorce. Charlotte’s intelligence was slightly lower, but was apparently a promising ballet dancer. The youngest, Theodore, had scored much higher but was very quiet and had been dealing with bullying issues for the entirety of his school carrier.

Let it never be said that Mycroft did not do his research. “They’re beautiful.”

The grin grew wider, “aren’t they? Alex is starting to get mouthy, gearing up to be a teen, but she’s hilarious. Charlie is still my little girl – she’s my princess, in every way. And Teddy, well, he’s just got into bugs so I keep coming home to find random insects in jars everywhere.”

“I was quite fond of bugs myself when I was younger, as was Sherlock.”  

Lestrade’s nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. “Not a fan, myself. I could live without coming home to find my kitchen crawling with things. But if it makes him happy, I’m happy.” The Omega glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. “You know you have to tell me about baby Sherlock.”

“Oh?”

His smile turned wicked. “Oh yeah. Something embarrassing, if you please.”

To the Alpha’s surprise conversation from there revolved around the Holmes’ childhood, which was a rare topic for Mycroft and not one he usually indulged people asking  about. But it seemed that Gregory’s charm was not to be underestimated and he found himself parting with stories and information (within limits, of course) about his younger siblings. It helped that Lestrade already knew Sherlock, as well as Alcott, who often joined John and Gregory’s morning runs.

As the hour grew close, Gregory flagged down a cab, face red and eyes damp from laughter at the stories of Sherlock and Alcott’s numerous adventures as children.

“I have no idea why Sherlock insists you don’t have a sense of humor,” Gregory said cheerfully, “I think you’re hilarious.”

“My brother is often wrong.” Mycroft replied haughtily and that seemed to only send his date into more laughter. He felt his on smile grow as he watched, eyes taking in the aging but still quite attractive Omega’s features. He couldn't remember the last time he'd genuinely smiled so much. The cab drew close and Gregory leaned into the window, giving the driver his address before turning to face him again.

“I had a great time, Mycroft.” Lestrade said, smile softer but no less large, “we should do it again.”

“I agree.” Mycroft agreed smoothly, already thinking of the next free evening he had, only to find his thoughts stilling as the Omega took a step forward. Gregory’s scent swelled around him as he leaned into him, his weight a fleeting warmth as lips pressed a chaste kiss against the Alpha’s lips.

The wrinkles around Gregory’s eyes crinkled in mirth as he took in the younger man’s stunned look. “Call me, yeah? Goodnight, Mycroft.”

“Goodnight, Gregory.” He managed, voice level even as him heart stuttered unevenly in his chest. He watched as the Omega slipped into the cab, keeping his eyes pinned on the car until it was out of sight.

A black sedan pulled up next to him, Anthea climbing out and opening the back door, her lips twitching against a smile.

“Not a word, Anthea.”

“Of course, sir.”

* * *

More dates followed.

Dinners at the Sketch Lecture Room and Library, Le Gavroche, and Hibiscus, plays and concerts at Albert Hall, and before Mycroft really realized it, the two had been seeing each other for nearly a month. Long enough for his brothers to begin teasing him about his boyfriend. Things had been stressful on the Holmes’ end. There had been a rather unfortunate merging of Mycroft personal and professional lives, the two intertwining on a level that even he was unused to.

Sherrinford’s death still weighed heavily on the family, especially on Mycroft. Alcott had only recently been recruited into MI6 (his youngest brother had purposely allowed himself to be caught hacking the mainframe and Mycroft had been forced to convince Olivia to take him on as Q less he face criminal charges) and the reemergence of James Bond – along with Silva and his constant threat to his mother – had caused a whole new vein of worry to consume his time. Added with that was the fact that Moriarty and Sherlock’s game was starting to enter into a truly delicate stage and Mycroft found himself rather busy.

Still, he found time for Gregory. And kept him safe. Mycroft had quietly increased security around Lestrade and his family, moving a constructed family of private security into the townhome next to his home and replacing one of the children’s teachers completely as well as adding new student teachers to the other two. Moriarty was a clever beast, through and through, and Mycroft wasn't going to allow him any chances to touch Gregory.

It would be best if he stopped seeing the Omega all together, but Mycroft found himself unwilling to do so. He told himself that it was a refusal to alter his life in response to Moriarty’s activities, but the Alpha did not deny to himself that it was also a selfish action. The Omega’s presence was a pleasant distraction and surprisingly a rather calming one, and the attraction he felt towards Gregory was the strongest he'd ever felt towards anyone.

Tonight they were walking though Hyde Park after a delightful meal at Maze at the Mayfair, both full and content after a truly delicious meal of steak. Gregory was in good spirits, still star struck from meeting Gordon Ramsey, and the light hearted conversation was just what Mycroft had needed. They’d both had just the right amount of wine – just enough to make them both loose and open – and the Omega was a warm spot against his side, his hand tucked in the crook of Mycroft’s arm.

They’d made their way to the Serpentine, the two pausing before it to stare out of the shifting water. Gregory let out a soft sigh and Mycroft felt his eyebrows rise in surprise as the Omega navigated his arm free and around the Alpha’s waist, leaning into him just enough to be a welcomed weight. Mycroft wrapped his own arm around his waist, hand spreading wide over Gregory’s hipbone in a possessive move. Lestrade didn’t seem to mind if they way he leaned heavier into Mycroft was any indication, settling his head against the Alpha’s shoulder before entangling the fingers of his free hand with Mycroft’s.

The Alpha would not claim that he found the…snuggling…distasteful, only that it was different and he glanced down at Gregory in puzzled surprise. The position put the tip of Lestrade’s short hair against his lips and Mycroft allowed himself a deep inhale, eyes drooping half mast at the heady scent.

“Mycroft?” The Alpha frowned at the soft tremor of Gregory’s voice. 

“Yes?”

“I’ve got another court appointment tomorrow. Ash is going to be there. And…” Lestrade’s voice dipped even lower, “and Sheri, too, I think.”

They’d talked about Ashley Whitlock a handful of times. Gregory had never lied or tried to hide his divorce and Mycroft had enough respect for the man not to pretend he didn’t already know everything that was happening between the two. Sheri Daproe, an Omega nearly fifteen years Gregory’s junior, had rarely been mentioned though.

Mycroft’s arm tightened reflexively at the Omega’s discomfort, tucking Gregory closer against his side. The head on his shoulder turned, burrowing into the hollow of Mycroft’s throat. The action sent an arrow of heat down the Alpha’s spine, curling in stomach.  

“I could accompany you.” He offered, his grip on the Omega tightening again at the feel of nose nuzzling against his skin.

“I appreciate the offer, but I need to do this alone.” Gregory said softly, his breath warm brushes. “But, maybe I could take you up on that later?”

“Whenever you’d like,” Mycroft promised, eyes still locked on the Omega’s crown. “My schedule is always open to you.”

There was a huff of a laugh against his skin. “You sure about that? I wouldn’t want to take you away from running England.”

“My brother exaggerates.” He said with a snort, “I am not nearly so irreplaceable.”

“I still don’t want to bother you.”

“You are never a bother, Gregory.”

Lestrade pushed back slightly, eyes soft as he stared up at him, lips quirked. “Mycroft Holmes, I’d never have guessed it. You’re a closet romantic.”

The Alpha paused, wondering all at once how he’d ever ended up in a situation where the word ‘romantic’ had been paired with his own name, before giving Gregory a small smile. “I suppose I have never had the urge to be one. Until recently, of course.”

Gregory’s smile grew wider and Mycroft found his breath catching slightly as the Omega pressed against him, lips seeking his own. They’d kissed a handful of times, but as Gregory’s mouth slotted against his own, Mycroft could tell that this one would be unlike the those they’d shared before.

There was a burst of wet warmth against his lips as the Omega’s tongue swiped coyly at his mouth and he instantly responded. Gregory let out the softest, most appealing sound when Mycroft deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into his mouth – a mouth that still tasted of the coffee and German chocolate cake from dessert – and proceeded to map every inch of the welcoming space.

Strong arms wrapped tightly around his body as Lestrade snuggled in even closer, eliminating any space between them, and Mycroft let out a low rumble of approval at the move, hand cupping the back of the Omega’s head possessively. The kiss grew longer, more impassioned, lips parting only to find a new angle before meeting instantly against each other again.

Gregory’s erection was pressing against his thigh and Mycroft’s own had hardened in response to the delicious ramp of arousal in his scent, and the Omega let out a soft whine as their cocks rubbed against each other. Gregory bucked slightly in his grip, a half restrained roll that ground their hips together and Mycroft broke the kiss with a growl, latching onto the exposed patch of neck. Gregory let out a breathily whimper, hands fisting into the fabric of Mycroft’s coat, head craning to the side to expose as much of his neck as possible.

“Jesus, My.” The Omega croaked, voice ragged and wrecked, and Mycroft felt a burst of fondness in his chest at the nickname, the strength of it rivaled only the bolts of lust that were streaking through his frame. “Christ, I’m so wet. You – just being near you makes me fucking leak like a teenager.” Mycroft snarled, biting down harshly on the flesh as hands reached down to grip at a perfectly formed, tight arse cheeks. “I – oh ,” Gregory breathed, arching into the touch as the Alpha pulled the covered mounds as far apart as they could be, hands tightening on Mycroft’s coat until the fabric strained, “oh, god. Want you, My, please. Need you – been – been thinking of you.”

Mycroft pulled away from the thoroughly bruised neck, pleased with the thought that Gregory would be meeting his former mate with his mark on him. The Omega’s face was flushed, pupils so dilated it had nearly swallowed those warm browns Mycroft so enjoyed.

“Fucked yourself to me,” the Alpha correct, voice a low growl, and felt his cock twitch harshly at Gregory's full body shudder at those words. “Stuffed your greedy little hole thinking of my cock, didn’t you?”

“Oh, shit. Should be illegal – you talking like that.” Gregory croaked, “never – you cursing – god, I – _ngh!”_

The words broke off into a started sound, eyes squeezing shut as Mycroft’s fingers dove underneath his coat and waist band in one fluid move. He found himself almost completely holding Omega’s body upright as his fingers sought that greedy hole, digits gliding through the slick. The angle was terrible, but Mycroft still managed to press his middle finger inside. Lestrade let out a cry, the sound muffled by the Alpha’s shoulder, before thrusting back almost violently.

Mycroft watched his reactions hungrily, pumping the digit in out of the hole, marveling at the tight heat. Had Gregory truly been mated? Had he really carried three children? He was so tight still, so perfect around his finger.

“Please, My, I – I need-” the Omega shivered, words lost as he clamped down hard around the finger, body shuddering.

He kept his finger deep inside, searching and prodding, determined to feel and map every inch of the warm channel. Gregory was so slick, so wet, that it was pooling against his curved palm, making a sticky webbing between his fingers.

“Mycroft,” Gregory breathed, the name desperate, hips humping back against him. Shrewd grey eyes cast a look around them, taking in the near empty park, before practically carrying the Omega towards a shadowed, darkened back end of a nearby groundskeeper hutch, hidden by tall bushes and trees. “Oh, Jesus,” the shorter man gasped as Mycroft spun him, pinning his front against the shed, before deftly undoing his belt. “This is so fucking illegal.”

“Should I stop, Detective Inspector?” Mycroft asked, voice a low purr as he used the new angle to shove two more fingers into the sopping hole. “I believe you’d made a vow, ‘fairness, integrity, diligence’ and all that?”

“Fuck no.” Gregory said with a moan, legs spreading as wide as they could in the confines of his trousers. “Don’t – Don’t stop.”

“Good.” The Alpha growled out, dropping to his knees as his hand rucked the D.I.’s coat and blazer out of the way, before parting glistening cheeks. Mycroft let out a low sound of approval at the sight. Slick was dripping liberally down toned thighs (an impressive amount really, given Lestrade’s age) and Mycroft couldn’t help the feeling of smug satisfaction that he had been the cause. The Omega’s hole was puffy and swollen, open ever so slightly from his fingers. And the scent…

The sounds Gregory made when he buried his face between those cheeks, tongue pressing insistently inside, nearly made the Alpha come. He reached down, gripping his balls tightly and easing the swollen and drawn flesh down. Above him Lestrade was shaking violently, collapsed completely against the hutch wall, body curved in a lordosis pose that was hampered only by Mycroft’s face. He slid a hand up, gathering slick before wrapping it around the Omega’s hard little dick and pumping.

“Mycroft!” Gregory cried out, body trembling so hard it was as if he was seizing. The Alpha stood smoothly, replacing his tongue with four fingers while his other hand shoved his date’s tie into his mouth.

“Bite down on that, if you must,” he commanded, his hand returning to pump the swollen member, “be quite embarrassing to be caught by the police, wouldn’t it? A man of your status – a D.I. caught being fucked in the park like a common whore.”

Gregory whimpered but nodded, drool quickly dampening the tie a dark color as his hips stuttered between the attention of Mycroft’s hands.

“Or is that what you want? Do you want to be seen? Caught practically on an Alpha’s knot?” The Omega whined, thrusting roughly back against the probing fingers. “Maybe I should call someone over here, let them watch as I fuck you. Would you like that, Detective Inspector? Let everyone watch as I fill you up?”

“Please,” Lestrade whimpered, words muffled by the tie, “please, Mycroft. Need it – need you ‘n me.”

Mycroft cursed, yanking his hands free to fight with his own belt, the movements hampered by the slick on his fingers. He managed to free himself a moment later, hands shaking as he lined himself up. The Alpha took a moment to admire the sight before him; Gregory Lestrade still half-dressed, slick staining (and undoubtedly ruining) his suit trousers, skin flushed to a bright red, before pressing in.

They both let out strained whines at the feel of his cock sinking in and in until it was buried till the root.

“Gregory,” Mycroft gasped, pressing his forehead against the Omega’s sweaty nape, utterly lost at the wet warmth that had swallowed him so well. “So good for me, so tight. Took me so well.”

Gregory whimpered, voice utterly shot. “Oh, My, baby. Please, move, I need – yes.”

Mycroft began a brutal pace, for once in his life utterly lost in the moment, uncaring of who may overhear or find them. He molded his body to the Omega’s back, hips pistoning in with enough strength to force his partner flat against the hut.

“Mine,” he growled out, teeth digging into Gregory’s nape, placement carefully done to avoid any chance at bonding even as his instincts cried for him to do so. He'd never been with an Omega who had ever invoked that urge, but with Lestrade it had seemingly awoken. The Omega nodded rapidly, hips meeting each thrust doggedly, no matter what pace Mycroft set.

“Yours!” Gregory whined, voice cracking, hands scrambling for purchase against the smooth sliding. “Only yours, I promise. Please, please, My! I’m – I’m gonna-”

The Omega cried out, biting roughly into the tie to silence the sound as he orgasmed, and Mycroft felt his eyes roll back at the sensation of Lestrade's passage gripping almost painfully around him - searching for his knot, the Alpha thought wildly - hips thrusting roughly now and without cohesion. At the last moment he pulled out just enough to free his knot – only a lifetime of ironclad control keeping him from shoving it back in as he came. His primal mind screamed in frustration at the feel of his seed leaking out around his cock, so liberally it coated the front of his suit and dribbled down Gregory’s thighs and legs until it pooled against the fabric of the Omega’s trousers. 

But the larger part of him recognized the pointless danger of knotting in such a public place. Despite his earlier taunts, the Alpha had no intention of allowing anyone to see Gregory in such a state. He eased out carefully, tucking himself back into his suit trousers and redoing the belt. Lestrade was still resting limply against the hutch wall, face slack with pleasure and body so limp it was a wonder he didn’t collapse.

Mycroft studied the well used form, eyes growing darker at the sight of his cum coating nearly every part of the Omega’s lowers. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss the pliant lips as he carefully negotiated the still drained man back into his trousers. He turned him, tucking the spent cock back into the utterly ruined pants before tying Lestrade’s trench coat to hide the worst of it from view and allowing the Omega to curl against his chest.

“No one gets to see you like this.” Mycroft said quietly, stroking his hand through sweat drenched locks. “Not Ashley Wheelock, not Sherlock, not that bitch of an Alpha you work with me. Just me, only me.”

Gregory nodded tiredly, resting his face against his shoulder. “I have the sitter until nine tomorrow morning.”

“Oh?”

“Hm.” The Omega nuzzled in closer, his hands weaseling underneath Mycroft’s blazer to wrap around the sweat soaked shirt. “You should take me home and knot me properly. Wanna fall asleep with you in me.”

Impossibly, Mycroft felt his cock already beginning to swell, his still hard knot aching. He pressed his lips to Gregory's forehead before fishing out his cell phone to arrange for their ride. “I would like nothing more, dear one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed. Our boys are very naughty.


	7. Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t quite love, but it was close; a deep and binding affection, a budding sense of possession and obligation, and Mycroft took his obligations very seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys! Enjoy! Un-beated.
> 
> Notes:  
> D.C.I. - Detective Chief Inspector
> 
> Slight allusion to TV show MI5/Spooks, which exists in the Bondlock world in my mind, and which Mycroft is currently working as the 'temporary' head of.

**August 20 th, 2011**

Mycroft woke slowly, mind instantly cataloging the room around him even before the Alpha opened his eyes. He was on his stomach, body stretched like a protective blanket over a still sleeping Gregory. His nose was buried in the Omega’s neck and his partner’s scent filled his lungs with every breath. Mycroft shifted, enjoying the dull pleasure of his morning erection sliding so pleasantly across the Omega’s plump bottom. For a moment the Holmes’ Alpha thought about grinding himself off, bringing them both to a quick, burst of morning pleasure, but his ears picked up a low clattering coming from below them and Mycroft regretfully pulled himself free from the warm bed and it's most pleasing occupant.

Mycroft pulled his robe on; a bright red and green thing that had been gifted to him by Gregory to keep at the Lestrade house. Despite the fact that couple had only been dating for four months, they had reached a level of intimacy that would be more at home in a relationship twice or even tripled that age. Gregory's painful and drawn out divorce and the death of Mycroft's mother had aided in this, making open conversation and a level of transparency necessary for their relationship's survival. Mycroft was quite ashamed to say that Gregory had surprised him; the Omega been there in every way that Mycroft could have ever needed. With his father and Sherrinford's death still so recent, the Alpha had needed that comfort desperately after Olivia had been killed. Now that he had experienced having affection and attention in his time of need, of how it had felt – for once – not to shoulder the blunt of their family’s tragedy by himself, Mycroft doubted he could go back to his world of isolated control.

In the months following his mother's death, Mycroft had shocked himself by sharing so much of his feelings and history with the Omega, and Gregory had born the weight of them so well, seemingly never missteping with his words or reactions. Perhaps it was because the D.I. had been broken into the Holmes way of thinking by Sherlock already, but there was little that he had told Lestrade that seemed to put the older man off. By their second month dating, both Gregory and Mycroft had felt secure enough for him to meet the Lestrade children. By the third, it had become common to find one at the other’s house. Because of the children, they tended to end up at Gregory’s more than Mycroft’s brownstone, but to the Alpha it hardly mattered.

To the Holmes' surprise, he found the children pleasant and enjoyable.

Alexa was a rowdy, precious ten year old, constantly getting into things in a way that fondly reminded him of Sherlock at that age – if he’d been much slower, of course. And Charlotte was an incredibly charming young girl, a lady in every meaning of the word,  and despite her tender age every move and word thought out to ensure her appearance to be refined and patrician. It was a habit that Mycroft greatly appreciated and encouraged. While all three of the little Alphas had seemingly ‘clicked’ with Mycroft (much to his greatest relief, as he had very little experience with children outside of his own brothers and they could hardly be considered normal) the Holmes found himself drawn towards the youngest, Theodore, the most.    

Theodore was only six, but he was already showing a great glimmer of fierce intelligence. The tiny Alpha preferred his insect and rock collection over much else, including idol conversation, and it was fairly obvious that Mycroft favoritism of Lestrade's youngest was due to his more Holmes-ian traits, but Gregory didn’t seem to mind. The Omega had reassured him that between the girls' older age and more vivacious personalities, they needed less coddling than young Theodore, who seemed to crave the extra attention the elder Alpha paid him.

The readiness with which the children had accepted him had eased Mycroft’s frequent presence at the house and the three barely looked up when he entered the kitchen. They had latched onto his presence quite willingly, and Mycroft wasn't emotional enough to see that as anything but what it was. While they may like him, the majority of good will he was currently enjoying was due to his timely arrival to fill a long standing gap in their family dynamic; the need for an Alpha parent.

From Mycroft's understanding, even before beginning her affair Ashley Whitlock's work schedule made her an absentee parent. That had only increased once she had began her new relationship and now that the female Alpha was free of even the most basic of pretenses, she spent little time with them. While some of this was undoubtedly due to the still in-progress custody hearings, most of if most likely had to do with Whitlock's new freedom and her growing lack of attention the last eight months was sorely felt by her children. 

Still, it would never be said that Mycroft Holmes looked a gift horse in the mouth - or that he did not use every angle available to him - and he would gladly exploit his ability to serve as a proxy to establish an emotional base with the children. There would be time later for something deeper, something real that developed from their actual relationships, but for the moment this would due. Mycroft's lips curved into a small smile at the sight of Alexa making her siblings toast, staring blearily down into the toaster, balanced on a step stool. While her attitude may be at times rather uncouth and abrupt, Mycroft felt a certain kinship with Lestrade's eldest. While Gregory was far more involved than his own parents had ever been, the D.I.'s work hours and the lack of a second parent meant that Alexa often stepped up to help out with her siblings. Charlotte was drawling in her Disney Princesses coloring book, each down stroke of her marker measured carefully to keep within the lines, a look intense concentration on her face. Theodore was practically asleep in his seat, nibbling on his toast, his stuffed giraffe held limply to his chest.

“Good morning, children.” Mycroft greeted, crossing the kitchen and lifting Alexa off the stool and onto the ground. The ten year old blinked up at him as he steered her towards her seat. “Would you like some eggs?”

“Scrambled.” Alexa ordered as she plopped in the kitchen chair, “with cheese.”

“Manners, Alexa.”

“Please, make me some scrambled eggs with cheese.” The young Alpha said with a pout, tugging at the end of her pony tail.

“I want scrambled eggs too, _please.”_ Charlotte said, smirking at the dark glare her sister threw her.

“What about you, Theodore?” Mycroft asked as he set a cup of orange juice down in front of each pup.

“Teddy doesn’t like eggs, My.” Alexa corrected in a superior tone.

The Alpha felt his lips twitch. “Of course, my mistake.” He pulled the eggs and cheese out and began to slice it. “What are you doing up so early? It’s unlike you all to be up before nine.”

“Teddy wet the bed like a baby.”

That seemed to wake the littlest Alpha up immediately, crying out in dismay. “I did not!”

“Did too!”

“Yeah you did!”

The two Alpha girls berated together and Theodore flushed a bright red, lower lip trembling. Mycroft moved quickly to intervene, brushing a hand across Theodore’s downy hair in a gentle pet. “No yelling at the table, your father is still asleep. And it’s alright, Theodore, these things happen. My younger brother Sherlock wet the bed until he was seven. A whole year older than you.”

Bright brown eyes stared up at him and not for the first time, Mycroft was swept by a gratefulness that Lestrade’s children took after him and not their sire. He did not believe his affections for them would have been swayed if they had, but it was not unheard of; there was a biological basis for new Alphas rejecting the pups of a previous mating. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Have you changed?” An embarrassed nod. “Did Alexa help you? Then say thank you to your sister…that’s a good boy. You as well, Alexa. You are an excellent older sister, an Alpha should always look after those smaller and younger than them, especially if they're family." Alexa practically preened with the praise, grinning around her toast. "I’ll change your sheets after we eat, Theodore. How does that sound?”

Theodore nodded. “Thank you, My.”

He gave the small Alpha a smile before turning back to the eggs. He’d only just finished cutting the cheese when he was startled by the sound of the front door opening. He turned, eyes narrowing, and had cleared the length of the kitchen, standing protectively in the opening, before it had clicked shut. Mycroft had to still the irritated growl when he found himself face to face with Ashley Whitlock. The Alpha woman was only slightly shorter than him and she instantly puffed herself up to eliminate the difference, blue eyes blazing as she stood taller and wider.

“Who the hell are you?” She snarled, lips pulled back in a snarl. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

“I was under the impression you no longer live here, Ms. Whitlock.” The Alpha said coldly, “does Gregory know you’re coming?”

“I don’t need to ask permission to come to my own house.” Whitlock seethed.

“The deed is in Gregory’s name,” and it was – Mycroft had seen to it himself. He felt his eyes narrow even further, disgusted at the arrogance of the woman, thinking she could just waltz back into Lestrade’s house as if nothing had ever happened. “As I believe you are aware, seeing as you signed it over just last month.”

“Listen, you prick-”

“Mummy?” A trembling voice interrupted and Mycroft glanced over his shoulder to find all three pups visibly upset by the harsh tones and raised voices. Charlotte was staring at her mother, eyes wide and not a little bit tinged with uncertainty and Theodore had slid from his chair, pressed against Alexa’s side, his giraffe clutched close, as the older Alpha gave her sire a truly weighty glare for a pre-teen.

It was like a switch had been flipped, the female Alpha’s tone going soft even as her glare never left Mycroft’s face. “Charlie, sweetie, everything’s fine.”

“You missed my recital.” The little girl accused, lips pulling into a decisive frown. “It was the biggest one of the year. You promised.”

She had promised, and she had missed it.

Mycroft hadn’t.

Whitlock winced, “I called you, hunny, to explain but your Daddy wouldn’t let me talk to you.”

“Yeah, to explain how you were off replacing us.” Alexa snarled, pulling Theodore even closer to her side. To say the news of Sheri Daproe’s pregnancy had gone over badly with the children would be an understatement. None of the pups were under any delusions over what was happening between their parents. Gregory had thought it best to be open and Mycroft – whose childhood had been ruled by lies (both well-meaning and not) – had encouraged the idea. Children were not stupid, even at their tender ages they were capable of understanding and rationalizing a great deal, and they would form their own assumptions - often times worse and far harsher - if they were not guided.

“No, Alex! Kids, I would never replace you, this is just like when Theo was born-”

“Alexa, will you please take your siblings upstairs and fetch your father.” Mycroft interrupted, shifting to block Whitlock’s attempt to bypass him and step into the kitchen.

The female Alpha was still in the honeymoon stages of her new relationship and whether it was intentional or not, she had been neglecting her obligations as both a mother and an Alpha. Obligations that Mycroft had since begun to fill. It had been Mycroft who had gone to the recitals and school plays, who had picked the children up from after school practices when Gregory couldn’t get away from work, who had calmed and bribed angry and disappointed tears away when their mother had failed to show or call yet again. And it had been Mycroft who had sat with the pups, trying to comfort and reassure them of not only their worth but potential, as Gregory told them of their impending half-sibling.

Alexa nodded, keeping Theodore by her side as she took Charlotte by the hand, and navigated the space between the two Alphas. Ashley Whitlock seemed to shrink as none of her children so much as spared her a glance. Only once they’d disappeared upstairs did the fire return to her glare.

“I don’t know who the hell you are, but if you think you can just step into my family and take my place you are sorely mistaken.” She snapped, hands fisting by her side, “those are my kids. I made them and there is nothing you can ever do to replace that, to replace me? You hear me?”

“No one is trying to replace you, Ms. Whitlock.”

“Really? Sure as fuck could have fooled me.”

Mycroft drew to his full height, hands locking behind his back, and the air he took was more appropriate for the parliament than his boyfriend’s kitchen, clad only in pajamas and a house coat. “I will ask you to reframe from such profanity, at least while you’re in the house. Children are so impressionable, after all.”

“Don’t you tell me how to raise my kids, you little shit, who the hell do you think-”

“Ashley!” A sharp voice barked and both Alphas turned to find Gregory descending the stairs, a storm incarnate. “Don’t you dare talk to him like that.”

He reached the bottom of the steps, glaring at his ex with an expression he usually saved for the interrogation rooms. Mycroft felt something inside him – deep, deep inside him – and something he would never own up to, crow in victory as the Omega joined him by his side, a hand curling into his own.

“What are you doing here, Ash?” Gregory demanded, livid.

The female Alpha stiffened. “I was in the neighborhood and thought it would be nice to see the kids.”

“I’m having the locks changed; you just can’t show up whenever you want.” The Omega let out a frustrated breath, “you can’t just do these things, Ash. You can’t just disappear from their lives for eight months and then just…just _show up!_ You can’t play with them like that.”

“Play - _Play_ with them? They’re my kids, too, Greg! I have a right to see them.” Whitlock hissed, face turning a dark maroon in her anger. Mycroft felt his lip curl at the sight of it, slipping his arm around Gregory’s waist and tugging the Omega against his side in a move that couldn’t be seen as anything other than the possessive, protective movement it was. Gregory instantly melted into him, leaning his head against Mycroft’s shoulder as his hand rested overtop the Alpha's. The actions only seemed to further infuriate Whitlock, though. “And this is protecting them? Shacking up with some stranger? Jesus, were the sheets even cold-”

“I am really sure that’s not an argument you want start, Ashley.” Gregory interrupted, tone positively glacial, “how is Sheri?”

“She’s fine,” Whitlock bit out, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t be having your boyfriend living at the house!”

“He’s not living here,” Gregory corrected smoothly, “and even if it was, you’d have no say in it. You gave that right up when you broke our bond and divorced me.”

“I still have rights and-”

“Yes, you do, as you keep reminding me at the custody meet-ups, but they don’t extend to me or my relationships.”

“They do if I think it’s going to affect my children.” The Alpha snarled. “And I don’t like the idea of some stranger shacking up around them.”

The Omega scoffed, his own arm curling around Mycroft in a soothing motion, trying to calm the tense lines of irritation and anger in his form.

“Mycroft is hardly a stranger, Ash. I’ve known his family for almost thirty years, I work with one his brothers and his other is practically my best friend." The Alpha opened her mouth to object, but Gregory continued on, voice hard. “What’s more, he’s a doll with the kids. They love him and he’s been kind enough to pick up the pieces that you left behind. I know him pretty damn well and I trust him, way more than I trust you. I have zero issues having him around – hell, even leaving him with the kids.”

“We’ll see about this.” Whitlock declared angrily, “expect a call from your barrister on Monday.”

“Fine, whatever,” the Omega said dismissively as he crossed the small entryway and opened the door, “just leave.”

Whitlock hesitated, looking torn. “Greg, I never wanted it to be like this. I mean, we've had-”

“No.” Gregory snapped, voice very low now, a rumbling growl echoing his words, “you don’t get to do that. You choose this, Ash. You made your bed the moment you cheated on me with Sheri. Well, you got your hot little thing, don’t you dare begrudge me finding my own happiness. What did you think? That we’d be friends? That everything was going to continue on as normal, that I wasn’t ever going to move on? That everything was going to be like before, that I was going to just keep coming home to a lonely house?

These last two years have been a joke, and I deserve better than that life. Mycroft is a good man – a better Alpha than you could ever hope to be – he's there for me and the pups, and that…that…” The Omega shook his head, seemingly running out of steam, suddenly looking tired and exhausted. “That’s just the way it is, okay? Now, please leave. You can keep your key; it won’t work after today anyway.”

The female Alpha stared at Gregory, looking at her like she’d never seen him before, before nodding and slowly, reluctantly, leaving. Gregory shut the door and locked it, the lines of his face still hard, before the emotion melted into something much more vulnerable. “I’m sorry about, Mycroft. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that. I’m just…I’m just really sorry.” Mycroft crossed the small space, startling the Omega as he pulled him into a heated kiss. When he pulled away, Gregory was staring up at him, looking beautiful with kiss plumped lips and a flush to his cheeks. “What was that for?”

"For defending me so wonderfully, my dear." Mycroft purred, pressing himself closer to the Omega. "Your sister is still taking the children to the zoo at eleven, correct? Why don't let me show you how thankful I am?"

Gregory's delighted laugh was muffled as the Alpha swooped in, claiming his mouth hungrily again.

* * *

Mycroft was deep in the middle of an MI5 section heads briefing when his phone vibrated at his hip. Usually the Alpha kept it on silence during meetings, but it was rounding on lunch time on Monday and the Holmes had little doubt that Ashley Whitlock would be going through with her threat. He excused himself from the meeting - the act so out of the norm that nearly everyone fell gapingly silent at the action - walked the three feet to his sound proofed office and shut the door before calling Anthea back. His personal assistance briefed him quickly, her normally inflection-less voice tinged with annoyance. Anthea had taken such a liking to Gregory that if the Alpha hadn't been homosexual, Mycroft may have been concerned.

Of course, it was hard not to like Gregory. The kindhearted Omega had been a police officer for so long, years of existing in a realm where the team was everything, and often went out of his way to include Anthea. He brought her plates of warm food and tea to where she waited in the car, often invited her in to join them for dinner or activities (though she always declined politely), and the PA - who was often ignored and overlooked by those around her - had been visibly touched by the constant inclusion. Mycroft hardly minded the attachment; Anthea was a highly trained instrument of destruction and having her emotionally invested in his boyfriend and family was hardly something the Holmes scion thought of as a negative.

The Alpha gathered three thick packets, pushing them into his briefcase before leaving the meeting under the direction of the incredibly capable hands of Harry Pearce, and left MI5. The car had barely left the garage before his phone rang again. The Holmes tabbed up the privacy window before answering. “Gregory.”

“Hey, sorry to call like this,” the Omega sounded completely frazzled, breaking for the indistinguishable sound of a cigarette inhale and Mycroft felt his nose wrinkle in distaste; he abhorred the habit, yet he knew that Gregory only indulged when he was incredibly stressed, “I hate to – I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“No, I’m free at the moment.” Mycroft assured, asking what was wrong even though he already knew. The Omega immediately launched into the tale, telling of how Ashley Whitlock was trying to get custody by getting Gregory pronounced an unfit parent.

“She saying I work too much to pay attention to the kids! That’s such a laugh, given her hours and – oh I don’t know – the fact that she’s hardly been around this last year.” Gregory laughed harshly, voice frustrated and hurt, “and she’s also lodging that I can’t fully support three kids on my salary; not with the private school _and_ the after-school activities. God, I just don’t even know…”

There was a heavy sigh.

“And she’s saying I’m a bad example by having my boyfriend over and shagging me with the kids home. She’s…she’s really pissed off about that, though I’ll eat my badge if that’s what this is about. Seems a bit of the pot calling the kettle black to me, I mean seriously! Attacking _my_ character! She’s the one who had the affair!”

Gregory’s voice cracked slightly and Mycroft felt his temper rise at the shuddering intake that followed it. His instincts were swirling just underneath his iron-like control, the distress of the Omega he was so rapidly considering _his_ evoking every inch of the Alpha’s protective nature.

“Christ, I’ve got to go back inside, the break’s almost over.” Gregory groaned and Mycroft could practically see the hand dragging across a tired face, “bloody hell, I don’t want to go back in and sit there, listening to Ash call me a bad Omega. God knows my barrister certainly isn’t defending me. Why am I even bothering to pay him? If I wanted to be belittled in silence, I could have just done it without spending so bloody much.”

“Gregory, I think it’s best I join you.” Mycroft said, straightening his tie as the car drew up to its destination. He could just see the tall figure of Lestrade as he paced the sidewalk.

Another heavy sigh. “That would be lovely, My, but I can’t ask that. You’re busy and half way across town.”

“As I said before, I happen to be free at the moment,” the Alpha corrected as the car pulled to a stop. He stepped out, giving the surprised Omega a small smile as he flipped the phone closed, “and I happened to be in the neighborhood.”

“Like hell you did.” Gregory said with a snort, immediately calling him out on the lie. He was too used to the Holmes' modus operandi thanks to Sherlock and for a moment Mycroft worried that perhaps he had presumed too much, but then the Omega was in his arms, nuzzling into his throat. He returned the gentle motion, pulling his partner closer, nose wrinkling at the smell of Ashley Whitlock that still clung to him, eager to see the offensive scent gone. “I’m glad you’re here, really I am, but I don’t want you to hear what’s going on in there.” Brown eyes glanced up at him worriedly, “I really appreciate you coming, but I don’t think even you can help here.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Mycroft said as he carded a gloved hand through short locks, “I rather think I can help in several ways.”

The look Gregory gave him was almost comically suspicious. “I know that look – that’s the same smug-arsed expression Sherlock gets. What have you got planned, My?”

“Nothing that will cause you or your own any harm, darling, I promise.” The Alpha leaned in for a chaste kiss, “I’m just here to aid you, may I?”

The Omega stared up at him searching, brows furrowed, before nodding. “Alright, but I’m trusting you here, Mycroft. These are my kids.”

“Which is exactly why you should trust me, dearest.” He assured softly, “I would no more allow them to be taken from you than I would you from me.”

He took the Omega by the hand, guiding him inside and back towards the room. And the Alpha meant what he said; the level of protectiveness he felt for Gregory and his children was something that Mycroft had only felt before for his brothers. It wasn’t quite love, but it was close; a deep and binding affection, a budding sense of possession and obligation, and Mycroft took his obligations very seriously.

Gregory let out a soft laugh as the Alpha brought them to a halt in front of the legal chamber they were meeting in. “Do I even want to know how you know what room we’re in?”

“I had Anthea follow you.”

“Of course you did.”

“In my defense,” Mycroft said as they slowed before the legal chambers, “I was very concerned.”

Gregory only shook his head, looking amused, but the smile was fleeting, disappearing completely only moments later. "I was serious about what I said outside, Mycroft. She's saying some...unflattering things, about both of us."

He reached, stroking the Omega's cheek gently. "There is nothing Ashley Whitlock could possibly say that could ever influence my opinion of you," not that he was planning on allowing the female Alpha to speak much, "and I ask only that you have faith in me and my abilities to manipulate the situation. There are some benefits to dating a Holmes after all, Gregory."

Gregory nodded before cursing loudly. "What the - my barrister isn't in yet. He must be running late."

"I believe Anthea is with him."

"Mycroft..."

"Have faith, my dear. I know what I'm doing." He gave the nervous looking D.I. a reassuring smile, than pushed the door open.

Ashley Whitlock sat at the table, her current mate, Sheri Daproe by her side, and looked absolutely infuriated at Mycroft’s presence. “What are you doing here?”

Mycroft set his briefcase down on the table before pulling a chair out for Lestrade. Only once they were both seated did the Alpha respond. “As of this moment, I am serving as Gregory Lestrade’s representation.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate? Are you even a barrister?” Whitlock snapped, clearly unhappy with the change.

“I have a law degree, several in fact, and from universities assuredly better than your own. And my presence here is no more unprofessional than you choosing to represent yourself in these proceeding.” Mycroft explained as he pulled out and neatly set out the three packets, taking time to ensure they were aligned on the table perfectly. “Proceedings which I believe have taken far too long already. So, as they say," he folded his hands together as he rested them on the table, smiling genially, "let’s get down to the brass tax.”

“Fine by me.” Whitlock spit out.

Daproe placed a calming hand on her mate’s arm. “I’m sorry, sir, but what did you say your name was?”

“Mycroft Holmes.” And there – there it was, the recognition (on Daproe’s face at least) that always followed his name. “I understand that you have brought a charge of unfit parenting against my client.” He gestured to the left most packet, “inside you’ll find twenty-eight signed affidavits; from the children’s primary teachers, the Academy head master, their after school instructors, as well as their medical team – their pediatrician, dentist, and therapist – as well as Mr. Lestrade’s coworkers, direct underlings, superior and close friends that not only validate but praise my client's parenting skills.

As for your concern of my client’s time obligations, there are the profiles of six different nannies – all whom have stunning references included within – that will be looking after the children when necessary. I encourage you to look through and pick your favorites for Gregory's final approval.

The middle packet, on the other hand, contains thirty-two affidavits – including three signed by your law partners - that comment on how incredibly strenuous and inclusive your own schedule has been for the last three years, including your billable hours (which are rather numerous in number) and logged hours at your firm. The rest are from many of the same individuals from the first packet, in which they comment – rather effectively – on your own lack of involvement in your children’s upbringing, going back several years before you even began your affair. You will also find several _very_ well recorded documentations of your…extra-marital activities of the last two years. As well as very scathing character statement from your former secretary that outlines your moral discrepancies not only during work hours but after, including frequently missed holidays and birthdays to spend with your mistress."

The entire table was gaping at him, but Mycroft was hardly done. He pushed the last packet forward slightly.

“So, as you see, you’ve forced our hand here. We’re filing a claim of unfitness against you, and I’m rather afraid that we’ll win. As for your concerns of Mr. Lestrade’s finical situation; in the left most packet you will also find a written notification of an assigned promotion to take place in the next six months, which includes the figures of the accompanying raise as well as the new, flexible hours. That, in accompaniment with your own child support, should suffice. However, I find it necessary to quell this matter once and for all.”

He opened the last packet, allowing the contents to slide out onto the table.

“I fully understand and empathize with your concerns that for your children financial safety and emotional well being and as such I cannot fault you for suspicion of my character. To address this matter, I have prepared my credentials. This includes an extensive background check and resume,” he held up the red folder, nearly the size of a small book, “character references of my own,” he pushed for a rather large number of sealed envelopes, including one that bore the crest of the royal family, “as well as my yearly earnings and an extensive list of my stock holdings, real estate and commercial properties. I am the third richest man in England, Ms. Whitlock, I am not seeking to abuse or take advantage of Gregory.”

He carefully put the information back inside the packet, before stacking all three of them and pushing them across the table.

“Now, I believe it best if you take a few days to consider the situation. But I advise you to be intelligent about this, Mrs. Whitlock. Drop your charges and sign over full custody to Mr. Lestrade, as he is clearly the fittest parent to hold such a privilege. You will receive the same visiting privileges as most divorced sires; you may have the children every other weekend.”

Whitlock leapt to her feet, hands slamming against the table, and both Gregory and Sheri flinched at the impromptu show of violence. “Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not,” Mycroft said with no small amount of distaste, appalled not only by the outburst but how uncomfortable it had made both Omegas. “However, to clarify; if you continue to pursue full custody – despite the documented fact that you are not qualified to be the main care taker – I will assure that you will be declared unfit and any visiting privileges you have will be in a small, uncomfortable room, with a social worker. Are we clear?”

The female Alpha eyes flashed, turning her glare to Gregory. “Greg, are you going just sit there and let him do this to me?”

“Honestly?” The Omega said, voice awed and eyes locked on Mycroft, “yeah.” His eyes flickered over to his ex. “You could have whatever you wanted, Ash. The house, our savings, the cars. But let you take my babies from me? Do you even know me?”

Mycroft stood, guiding the Omega to his feet with a light touch to his back. “I believe that we’re done here for today. You’ll find a copy of my card in each packet, Mrs. Whitlock. I expect to hear from you by the end of the week or I will be pressing forward with our own charges. Mrs. Daproe, good day.”

He gave the shell shocked looking Omega woman a nod, before gently steering his partner from the room. He barely made it a few feet outside when he was suddenly being pulled into an aggressive kiss. Gregory’s mouth claimed his own, hot and frantic, as he pushed him against the building's wall, body needy against his own. When he pulled away a few minutes later, both of them were red and sweaty, cocks hard as they pressed against each other.

“Fuck,” Gregory cursed, voice hoarse, “bloody _fucking_ Holmeses. That was brilliant, _you_ were brilliant.”

The Alpha chuckled, hands resting on the small of the Omega's back. "I trust your good faith was not wasted then, Detective Inspector."

"Not even remotely," the older man said with a grin, leaning back into Mycroft's hold as he stared up at him. "How the hell did you pull all that together, Mycroft? All of those affidavits? No way you pulled that together this morning, how long have you been getting those packets prepped?"

"I admit that I had bit of foresight there," Mycroft said casually, but not without an air of smugness, "I begun gathering statements a few weeks ago. It was very easy. You are very well liked, my dear."

"And how did you know about my promotion to D.C.I.? I haven't told anyone about that, not even Sally." The Omega stiffened, alarmed. "Mycroft, you didn't-"

"No, of course not." The Alpha reassured quickly, "you earned your promotion on your own. My job gives me certain perks when it comes to accessing the police database and your superior has already begun filing the paperwork." He gestured to the waiting car. "Seeing as we both have the afternoon off, would you like to join me for lunch?"

The smile Gregory gave him was blinding, leaning up to press a kiss to the Alpha's ear before whispering a dirty, filthy suggestion involving Mycroft's oversized bed and the D.I.'s handcuffs, each word accompanied with the wet drag of the Omega's tongue against the shell of his ear. Mycroft swallowed harshly, nodding as he all but manhandled his partner into the sedan. The doors had barely shut when Gregory was on him again, worrying his neck as his hand disappeared into the Alpha's trousers. 

"I'm going to do horrible, deplorable things to you, Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft's breath hitched as his cock was freed, eyes flickering from the privacy window to the tinted rear ones as calloused hands worked him to full hardness. "Is that a promise, D.C.I. Lestrade?"

There was the distinctive _clink-_ _shink_ of a belt being undone and a dark chuckle rattled against his ear, "Oh, _yes._ I'm going to ride your knot until you loose every clever, snarky thought in that beautiful head of yours."

The Alpha groaned as the D.I. was suddenly in his lap, trouser and pants pulled down just enough to free his hole - and suddenly Mycroft's cock was sinking into a familiar - but always missed - wet heat. The Omega let out a sharp hiss as he sank down to the root all at once. The Alpha let his eyes close, head slumping back against the head rest, mouth parted slightly as Gregory rose and sank a few times shakily before his hands latched onto Mycroft's shoulders for support and begun to ride him in earnest.

"Such a good Alpha," Gregory panted, "you take such care of me and my puppies. N'ver seen Ashley struck dumb like that, she couldn't even think of what to say. Not that I'm a surprise, she's -  _oh -_ not half the Alpha you are." Mycroft moaned, hands wrapping tightly around wide hips, helpless against the tight vice of the Omega's cunt and the words - as submissively cliche and transparently constructed to appeal to his Alpha-nature as they were - spilling from his mouth. "Should have done this before we went in - so she could smell you all over me, smell how good you fill me up. Want her to think of me like this, riding you like a knot-whore, desperate for you to plug me up. Only for you."

_"Gregory."_

"Yeah, babe. That's it, My. Give it to me, w-want it." The Omega moaned, lapping at the bonding node, a hand jerking himself off rapidly as he pressed their chests together, the rise and fall of his hips speeding up. The small cabin was filled with the unmistakable sounds of sex; the slap of skin against skin, the squelch of a slick ass being fucked. "God, you make me so wet, My. Wet all over you."

"I'm close." Mycroft bit out, his grip tightening until it was bruising, eyes still shut and teeth grinding together in an attempt to muffle the low growl and moans escaping him, ever mindful of their driver, even if the back cabin was soundproofed.

"M-Me, too," his lover panted and only seconds later bit sharply into the fabric of the Alpha's tweed jacket, body jerking in orgasm. Mycroft followed half a breath later, crying out as his hips jutted upwards, pulling the Omega against him in a crushing hug as he tied them together. Gregory went limp against him, breath a staccato against his neck, arms wrapped around Mycroft's shoulders. "Christ, I love your cock."

The Alpha laughed, letting his hand drift down to squeeze a round ass cheek. "I'm fairly certain it's rather fond of you as well, darling."

"I'm so glad you're here with me, Mycroft. I'm so glad you asked me to dinner that day in the park." Gregory said softly, burrowing even closer to him, face still hidden in his neck.

Mycroft tightened his own arms, taken by the same need to have the Omega closer, as close as he could possibly get, and nuzzled into the Omega's sweaty hair. He took a deep inhale their scents - combined in the most perfect, intimate of ways - before voicing his agreement.

"So am I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed Mycroft being a badass and – of course – the smut ;P I personally love a domestic!Mycroft and writing him with the pups was so much fun.
> 
> Almost done now, only one chapter left. Not going to lie, this chapter mainly got done because Lyaka and feliciahm left a comment on the last chapter and it got my creative juices burning. This story can be an asshole to me sometimes, lol. Please drop me a comment or a kudo if you enjoyed the chappie and I’ll try and get the final chapter out soon.
> 
> ...
> 
> Which will probably involve a very lengthy BJ and some oral knotting because…yum.


	8. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Love, the Alpha realized all at once, that was what the emotion was called and the fact that he – Mycroft Holmes – was feeling it was a gift that he’d never looked for nor expected. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beated.
> 
> Okay, I lied. Oral Knotting in the epilogue chapter, but this one does have a bj!

**September 17th, 2011**

Mycroft’s townhouse was silent save for the sound of the Alpha’s pacing. Sheer force of will had him still dressed, a pair of pajama bottoms (cotton instead of the usual silk, no reason to ruin the fabric) that were tented obscenely at the crotch, the material damp with a growing stain of pre-come.

Gregory was late.

Over two hours late.

It wasn’t the Omega’s fault; the D.I. had been called out unexpectedly and had been stuck at a crime scene throughout the afternoon.  The Alpha snarled, hands fisting at his side to keep them from tearing at his face or ripping his erection free and tossing off. Despite the aching need in his gut, getting off would only make everything worse without a partner and so Mycroft kept up his pacing and tried to keep his temper under control. The Alpha stalked across the flat, glowering as he re-read his text messages.

_Double Homicide. I’ll try to hurry. – GL_

_This is taking too long. I’m sorry. Are you alright? – GL_

_I’m calling Sherlock, Sally’s pissed. – GL_

_It was the daughter. Lestrade has left with Anthea. – SH_

_15 – GL_

The last message had been nearly half an hour ago. Mycroft threw the mobile away, suddenly furious, and was about to send the table lamp to join it when the sound of his front door opening and slamming shut instantly redirected his attention. Even from upstairs, the Alpha’s rut crazed mind could pick up the scent of Omega and he practically leapt down the stairs. Gregory barely had enough time to shrug off his raincoat before Mycroft was on him.

He slammed him against the entryway wall with enough force to rattle the pictures, one framed print of Nice dropping to shatter on the marble floor, but Mycroft could care less. He was too busy trying to smear his scent across his Omega; Gregory smelled too much like the world outside. The stench of other Alphas clung to the D.I. and even though two were the familiar smell of pack, it did little to comfort Mycroft. He rucked up his partner’s shirt, hands roaming over as much as skin as possible as sucked and licked at Gregory’s neck, slipping a leg between the Omega’s to grind against his thigh.

“My,” the Omega groan, hands fumbling to get his tie off, as his hips rocked against Mycroft’s legs, “Mycroft – let me, I just need to get-”  
The Alpha snarled, unhappy as Gregory twisted and turned in his arms, trying to shimmy out of his shirt, and the primal part of Mycroft’s mind that was convinced his mate was trying to escape bit down on a now naked shoulder – hard. The Omega cried out and suddenly Mycroft found his chin being held in an iron grasp, brown eyes bright with warning.

“No,” Gregory warned, “I know you hurt, but you don’t get to hurt me, are we clear? Mycroft, _are we clear?”_

It took some effort but Mycroft manage to find some strain of self-control and nodded, head dipping to mouth over the bruising mark contritely, soothing the tender flesh. A hand stroked the back of his sweaty neck, fingers combing through his hair.

“My poor Alpha,” Gregory cooed, “you just can’t help yourself, can you?” A hand pushed Mycroft’s trousers down, freeing the massive, swollen erection and the Alpha growled, entire frame tensing when a hand wrapped around the hot flesh and began to pump. “Not when you’re like this, all hard and ready. I kept you waiting for so long, didn’t I? Can you be good for me and hold on just a little bit longer?”

Mycroft nodded and managed to pry his hands off of the Omega’s hips, determined to keep himself from hurting his partner a second time. They gripped at the wall on either side of the tall form with enough force the plaster caved inward. Gregory rewarded him with a dirty smile, hands efficiently undoing his belt and stepping out of his pants and trousers, kicking the pile of clothing and his shoes away. Mycroft watched each movement sharply, fingers hooking into the plaster to keep himself from touching.

“Such a good Alpha,” Greg praised as he knelt before the Alpha. He pressed a kiss to skin just above Mycroft’s trouser line, licking up the pool of sweat there as he slowly pushed the trousers down. Mycroft watched, mouth dry as the Omega leaned forward, nuzzling the length of his cock and smearing pre-come across his lips and cheek. “Such a good boy like you deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

Gregory pulled back, a pink tongue darting out to lave once across the purpled head. Mycroft snarled, but in a herculean effort, managed to keep his hips from thrusting into the waiting mouth. A hand wrapped around his length, pumping as Gregory nuzzled and whimpered. His tongue darted out again and again – always in short, controlled kitten licks over his slit, gathering a mouthful of pre-come before disappearing inside once more.

He was faintly aware that he was growling – one low, continuous sound – head hanging limply down to stare at the Omega all but worshiping his cock. A second hand joined the first, fluttering and squeezing at his already popped knot.

“Come on, Alpha.” Gregory coaxed, licking his lips as he sped up his movements. “Don’t you want to come? I want you to come. Make me smell only like you, baby.”

“Gregory.” Mycroft managed, every muscle tensing and the Omega’s grip around his knot tightened. Those brilliant, pretty eyes found his own, staring up at him coyly as Gregory held his mouth wide open, ready to receive –

Mycroft came with a howl, knot hardening like it was carved from granite, balls drawing so tight against his body it hurt. He fought to keep his eyes open, utterly captivated by the way his come striped across Gregory’s face, how it pooled in his open mouth and the gentle curves of his face, and dripped further, across his shoulders and chest, clumping his hair.

It seemed that the Alpha came forever, hips thrusting forward over and over again, riveted at the sight of his Omega drenched in his come. When it finally ended, Mycroft’s knees gave out with little warning, but Gregory was darting forward, catching him by the waist and helping him sink down more gracefully. The Omega wasted little time climbing into his lap, curling into Mycroft and the Alpha grunted approvingly, hands rubbing and smearing the come into Gregory’s heated skin.

But the Omega was already moving, a hand digging into Mycroft’s thigh for support as he raised himself up and the Alpha barely had a moment to realize what was happening before Gregory was sinking down on his still hard cock. The Omega paused at the knot and Mycroft felt rather than heard him take a deep breath before forcing the blown flesh passed the rim with a grunt. Mycroft let out a choked whine, head snapping back as his hands tightened around Gregory’s hips like a vice, entire body trembling.

It was so much – too much after his orgasm, his knot oversensitive and aching, sending shivers of pained pleasure up Mycroft’s spine as it was gripped so tightly by the stretched rim. Gregory collapsed backwards against the Alpha’s chest, panting and shaking even as his lower back arched and his hips began to grind in a slow, steady circle.

“Gregory.” Mycroft gasped as his larger frame curled around the Omega, completely lost to the sensations. Hands reached backwards, wrapping around his shoulders as they clung tightly. It only took a handful of tight, controlled grinds before Gregory was coming apart in his arms, body locking tight around his cock. The resulting orgasm nearly undid Mycroft, his weak arms flying from the Omega to slam against the floor, elbows barely catching himself in time to keep them both upright.

“Oh,” Gregory whimpered, gripping tightly at Mycroft’s thighs, “oh, _yes.”_

The Omega let himself go limp, seeming aware that even in his weakened state Mycroft would never allow him fall. He cradled his partner against his chest, careful to keep him in a position that would keep the knot from becoming painful, even as his arms strained to hold them both up.

Gregory gave him a truly salacious smile. “God, I’ve missed your knot.”

An emotion reared up then, as all encompassing as it was sudden, and Mycroft found his breath catching at as he stared down at the Omega. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, but it was a queer, pleasant sort of feeling and Mycroft was struck all at once with how much he wanted.

How much he wanted this Omega in his arms, locked on his knot, grinning so fondly up at him forever. How much he wanted every inch of his flat to smell of their mixed arousal and completion. But it was more than sex; Mycroft wanted Gregory and everything that came with him. He wanted the sound of the D.I.’s grinding his teeth at night, wanted to come home everyday to trip over clothing and backpacks and toys strewn carelessly across his flat. Mycroft even wanted the candy bar wrappers he kept finding shoved between the sofa seats.

 _Love,_ the Alpha realized all at once, that was what the emotion was called and the fact that he – Mycroft Holmes – was feeling it was a gift that he’d never looked for nor expected. Something of the realization must have shown on his face, because Gregory’s expression softened, a calloused hand coming up to stroke at his jaw before guiding him down into a gentle kiss.

“I love you, too, My.” Mycroft stared at him mutely, almost unsure if he’d heard correctly, before reaching out and gently tracing his thumb over the swollen bonding node. Gregory shivered, neck tilting to expose more of the tanned flesh. “Yeah,” the Omega breathed, “yeah, if you want.”    

The Alpha’s eyes darkened, hand tightening around Gregory’s neck in a possessive hold, before gently releasing it. He gathered the Omega in his arms and stood, ignoring the yelps and whines of his lover as his knot twisted and rocked, and made his way towards the stairs.

There was no way Mycroft Holmes would be claiming his mate on the floor like a heathen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the end, folks! Expect the Epilogue up if not tonight, than tomorrow.


	9. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet the Alpha could hardly deny that it had never looked as fine as it did today, filled to the brim with his suddenly rather expansive family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now betaed by Felicia (whom I'm very grateful to).
> 
> As promise - the oral knotting.

**October 9th, 2011**

It was a perfect fall day for an outdoor party and Mycroft felt completely comfortable in a light jacket and a jumper, sipping his gin as he glanced about his garden. The space was fairly large for a London property, with a high wooden privacy fence and a stone patio. The entire place had been designed to look elegant yet simple and everything from the plants to the wicker furniture had been coordinated.

Everything was always in its place, unchanging as it had been for years, save for the passing of the seasons. Mycroft had always enjoyed that, how his garden had looked like a living painting. Yet the Alpha could hardly deny that it had never looked as fine as it did today, filled to the brim with his suddenly rather expansive family.

He nursed his drink, eyes drifting across the space to find Gregory. He looked happy from where he stood with John, both Omegas taking turns poking the grilling meat as they listened to Alcott. The youngest Holmes was sitting in a chair, a hand securing Rishley in his rapidly shrinking lap while the other gestured wildly; face alit with indignation as he related some story or another about someone doing something at MI6 that he really couldn’t talk about but trust him, was stupid.

The older Omegas took his ranting in stride, exchanging amused looks. Theodore was perched on John’s hip, watching the cooking meat with fascination as he clung to the doctor. That had been a strange friendship. There had been something about Watson that the silent boy seemed to gravitate to and Theodore always sought out John when their families gathered together.

Which was something that seemed to be happening more and more; the Holmes’ brothers hadn’t spent so much time together since they had been pups. Gregory was insistent though, and Mycroft found it impossible to deny his mate anything. He hoped that would fade once the novelty of being mated wore off, but the Alpha wasn’t too optimistic. One look from those espresso eyes and Mycroft was consistently caving. And Gregory seemed to know it, planning weekend grill-outs, family dinners, and movie nights at will. It seemed the D.I. was stunned with how little time they spent together _(“It’s a right shame that you lot aren’t closer, for goodness sake! Imagine, seeing your brothers three times a year when you live so close!”)_ and was damned and determined to undue years of family dramatics and feuds. And as it seemed that neither Alcott nor John was opposed to idea, that meant that Mycroft had been spending far more time with both Sherlock and James Bond as well.

There was a shriek of laughter and Mycroft glanced towards the center of the lawn to find one of the said Alphas, James Bond – agent of MI6 and perhaps her Majesty's most feared double-O – mimicking a dragon as he pounced on Charlotte, ticking the small Alpha mercilessly. Alexa let out a battle cry, raising her foam waffle bat high before charging the spy, batting it uselessly yet quite determinedly against James’ head.  
  
“If she is successful, I may finally be able to convince Ms. Hudson to allow me to use 221C as a lab.” A bored voice said from next to him and Mycroft’s lips twitched minutely as Sherlock appeared.

“Tired of Alcott’s neighborly presence already, dear brother?”

Sherlock scowled. “I said no such thing – and don’t you dare tell him that I did either. You have no idea what he is like now that he is so…” the Alpha shuddered in distaste, _“hormonal.”_

“Hormonal, am I?” A sharp voice interrupted and both Alphas froze. Alcott was glaring at them, arms crossed threateningly. The other Omegas were watching from the grill in amusement, Rishley relocated to peak at them from Gregory’s arms. “I’d like to see you be cheery when you’re as fat as I am.”

“Dear brother, I assure you that you hardly fat,” Mycroft placated, “if anything, you are simply radiant in motherhood.”

“Uh huh.” Alcott said dryly before holding up a napkin with a list hastily scrawled on it. “Do us a favor and run down to the corner store and picked those up. I put the brand names down, so there is no way you two can mess it up.”

“I can get them for you, love.” James offered as he slid up behind the Holmes Omega, hands seeking the growing bump greedily as he flipped the napkin list to read it.

“No, you’re busy being the dragon.” Alcott admonished, batting the agent's hands away from his stomach, “besides, Sherlock owes me a favor. Don’t you, Sherlock?”

Mycroft felt his eyebrows rise at the not so subtle conversation taking place between his younger brothers via facial expressions before sighing and plucking the napkin from Bond’s hand. He took Sherlock by the elbow, leading them towards the back gate. “Come on along, brother. The quicker started, the quicker completed.”

The younger Holmes glared over his shoulder in irritation, but allowed himself to be led outside. Only once they’d were far enough from the garden gate that Mycroft didn’t think that Sherlock would try and dart back in did he released the captured limb.

Mycroft shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing up at the fall sky. “So, what is it that my dear brothers wish to talk to me about?”

“He was frightfully transparent, wasn’t he?”

"Pregnancy brain, Sherlock, be kind."

The silence returned again, but the older Alpha knew better than to push Sherlock into speaking and allowed the conversation to lull. Despite the fact he had (somehow) found enough emotional competency to secure a mate, Sherlock was still lacking in most other aspects of human emotion, and so he pointedly ignored the discomfort that stiffened his brother’s shoulders as they walked. They arrived at the store, paying for the needed items, and began their walk home, their silence still intact.

Mycroft barely kept in the sigh of irritation. He hoped this wasn’t about Moriarty; the man had turned the trial into a complete joke, walking off a free man despite the Holmes’ best efforts. It was a rare day in his life indeed, because Mycroft found that for once he didn’t want to talk about work. Still, Sherlock was knee deep inside whatever it was Moriarty was planning and if his brother wished to speak of it, Mycroft could hardly deny him the chance.

Still, perhaps a more secure area than a street would be prudent.

He was just about to suggest such thing when the younger Alpha cleared his throat awkwardly. “Greg told John about the test results.”

Ah.

So that was what this was about.

After their mating there had been a brief moment when more children had been considered, but a visit to Gregory’s OBGYN had brought that conversation to an abrupt end. There were ways to procure a pregnancy as Gregory hadn’t yet entered menopause, in vitro fertilization and such, but a complicated family medical history that was splattered with diagnosis of endometriosis, ovarian cancer, and several cases of late-life pregnancy ending in miscarriages or – in one sad case – the death of the mother as well, made the option an unrealistic one.

Both had been disappointed, but after a long conversation they decided they were quite content with the household of Lestrade-Holmes as it was. Mycroft already had formed a strong connection with Gregory’s children, one that would surely only grow as the years passed, and even the eldest was still only ten. Added to this was the fact that as far as Mycroft was concerned, he’d already raised two pups from babes to adulthood.

“You have always wanted children, Mycroft.”

“I have five,” the Alpha offered casually, “and one nephew I am rather fond of as well.” The tension in his brother’s frame eased and Mycroft let his lips curve in a small smile, somewhere between touched and amused that his siblings had been worried about him. “Perhaps soon I'll have a niece as well.”  

Sherlock shot him an odd look. “You know Alcott’s pup is a boy.”

“I wasn’t talking about Alcott.”

The other Alpha stared at him blankly. Then, “John isn’t pregnant.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, smirking as his brother’s eyes widened comically.

“Is he?”

He opened his mouth to answer only to startle when a loud bang echoed across the neighborhood, the litre of milk that had been hanging loosely from his fingers suddenly exploded, the white liquid splashing everywhere, coating both Alphas. Sherlock – who had despised milk since he was a toddler – immediately reared back, face twisted in a disgusted snarl. He said something biting about the smell of it, but Mycroft hadn’t really heard him.

He was too busy staring at the blood that was mixing pink with the milk, a pain so acute in his side that for a moment Mycroft couldn’t even really feel it, mind seemingly incapable of processing it. The busted plastic litre dropped from his hand, clattering loudly against the cement and a half a second later, Mycroft joined it. Sherlock launched forward with a cry of his name, catching him underneath the armpits and taking the brunt of his weight and sending them both tumbling to the ground. Mycroft was vaguely aware of his brother shouting above him, calling for an ambulance, but shock was setting in firmly and the Alpha was struggling just to keep his eyes focused on Sherlock’s distressed features.

“Mycroft, stay awake.” Sherlock commanded, grey eyes wide with horror, but despite his best attempts Mycroft could feel his lids already growing heavier. “Mycroft, damn’t!” A sharp slap to his face gave him a burst of awareness and his eyes flew open, grunting in pain. “The paramedics are on the way, but you need to stay awake.”

With great effort, Mycroft brought a hand up to grasp his nearly frantic brother’s, squeezing it tightly.

“There, there,” and despite everything, Mycroft could still feel embarrassed by the slur to his words, which made it sound more like, “therh-therh,” and did nothing to calm the wild air around his usually so unflappable brother. He gave the hand another weak squeeze, “does’n ‘nh hurt.”

Sherlock was starting to blur above him, though if that was because of tears or something else, he hardly knew.

“Mycroft?”

How queer.

“Mycroft!”

He couldn’t feel his lips.

_“My!”_

* * *

The first thing he was aware of upon waking, was the twin sounds of a heart monitor and the low, worried voice of his mate.

“- to the principal’s office. God, I’ve never been so embarrassed. Alex had just…decimated this kid and she wouldn’t tell me why. Charlie’s refusing to go to dance class and Teddy…Teddy’s stopped talking, just like he did when me and Ash first split.”

There was a shaky sigh.

“They’re so worried for you, Mycroft. So am I. I tried to keep most of it from them, but they’re not dumb kids.” _No,_ the Alpha thought blearily, _they are not._ “And they understand what’s happening, even if you’re not in a hospital.”

Not a hospital. Good, that means that his contingency plan had been followed, and he was resting in the fully equipped hospital/safe room in his townhouse’s basement. Mycroft absolutely abhorred hospitals. Sure enough, when his eyes opened he was staring at the wallpapered ceiling of said safe room.

“It was a clean shot – straight through – right above your hip, no permanent damage.” There was a strangle sob and Mycroft craned his head up in alarm, finding Greg with his face hidden in his hands. “So just _wake up.”_

The Alpha frowned, struggling to sit up and hissed as his stomach erupted into muted but still present white-hot shot of pain. Gregory was at his side in half a heartbeat, voice soothing and hands gentle as they helped him up, pressing thick pillows behind him to support his weight.

“Don’t move too much, just wait…yeah, there you go.” The Omega was smiling brightly at him, eyes teary. “God, it’s good to see you awake.”

“How long?” Mycroft rasped, gratefully sipping water through a straw from the glass his mate offered him.

“Not even two days, but god you gave me a scare.” A gentle kiss was pressed against his forehead and the Alpha ignored the stiffness in his trunk and shoulders to turn, meeting the eager lips. “Gave all us of scare, really.”

“What happened? I was shot…was it-”

“Nothing like what you’re thinking,” his Omega said softly, running his fingers through Mycroft’s auburn hair, seemingly incapable of not touching the Holmes now that he was awake. “It was just some stupid kid, one of the neighbor’s boys. He got in a fight with some bloke he owed money to and tried to scare him off with his mom’s gun. He didn’t understand how the safety worked, and it just went off.”

Not Moriarty than.

Some ball of tension he wasn’t aware of lessened in the Alpha’s breast at the thought. But still, how pointless. A child had shot him. Two days would make today Tuesday, meaning Mycroft had lost two entire days of work that he could hardly afford.

“Sherlock?”

“He’s fine, well, physically at least. I think seeing you like that really did a number on him; the paramedics had to sedate him when they showed up, he wouldn’t let anyone near you.” Gregory gave the Alpha a soft smile as Mycroft frowned fiercely, annoyed. His barrister would be looking into that; there was nothing Sherlock despised more than having control taken from him, especially when panicked. “He’s upstairs with Alcott, they’ve been watching the kids for me. John’s been acting as your doctor, between patrolling the grounds with James and Anthea. You’d think we were under attack or something with the way they're acting.”

Mycroft barely kept the twitch off his face. He had yet to really explain the situation with Moriarty to his mate. While he doubted the two events were connected, it was clear that neither Watson nor Bond were willing to take a chance it was. He couldn't say he didn't approve.

“And the boy who shot me?”

Gregory’s smile was sharp. “Sally’s handling it.”

The Alpha nodded. While he may not like Sally Donovan, he would admit that she had her uses, and her loyalty to the D.I. was unshakable. Mycroft shifted, reaching out to tug his Omega down and claimed his mouth in a deep, probing kiss. His mate let out a sound of surprise as Mycroft pressed his tongue insistently inside, but seemed to melt into the touch. He broke only moments later, far more out of breath than he should have been. “Forgive me for scaring you, Gregory.”

The Omega huffed a breath against his lips, eyes still closed as they rested their foreheads together. “Just don’t do it again, you arse.”

“I second that,” a pleased voice announced from the door way and the mated pair glanced up to find a relieved looking John standing there, stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck. “Alcott’s been an absolute nightmare and don't even ask me to explain Sherlock’s behavior. Why can’t you people just worry like normal people?” The doctor moved into the room, reaching out and to take Mycroft’s wrist, timing his pulse. “In fact, Greg do you think you could call them both down here?”

It was a testament to how trying the younger Holmes truly must have been that Greg left immediately, hollering up the stairs. Mycroft exchanged an amused look with Watson at the sound of rapid footsteps across the sitting room above him.

“That bad?”

“You have no idea.” John muttered as he Velcro-ed the blood pressure sleeve in place. “Don’t get shot again – for all our sakes.”

Mycroft snorted, but he could not deny the pleased feeling in his chest at the thought of Sherlock and Alcott’s worry. “I will endeavor to avoid it in the future; it’s not something I find enjoyable after all and…” The words faded as his brothers entered the room, eyebrows rising at their disheveled states. “Sherlock, how on earth have you managed to singe off your eyebrow? And sit down Alcott, for heaven’s sake, think of the baby. You look like you’re about to pass out, when was the last time you’ve eaten?”

* * *

As it turned out, Mycroft was out of the office for a full week and if John was to have his way, it would still be another week before he could return. From where he was hiding in the laundry room, sneaking a cigarette while Gregory puttered about in the kitchen, the Alpha typed rapidly on his smuggled blackberry while signing paperwork Anthea was holding up through the window, trying to manage his overflowing inbox.

“Mycroft, tea’s ready!”

“Just a moment, dear.”

“Are you in the laundry?” The D.I. asked, voice suspicious. “…what are you doing in there?”

The Alpha froze in alarm, eyes darting to the closed door at the sound of approaching footsteps. He shoved the cigarette out of the window, ignoring Anthea's surprised yelp as she danced away, documents held protectively to her chest, and waved frantically at the smoky air. He barely had time to to yank the window shut before the door opened. His mate took one look at the mobile in his hand before glaring fiercely.

“Mycroft Holmes, you’re supposed to be resting – not working! Doctor’s orders. Have you – were you _smoking?”_ The blackberry was plucked from his fingers and tossed unceremoniously over his shoulder. “I can't believe you were smoking!"

“Gregory!” Mycroft admonished, eyes narrowing at the sound of the plastic cracking against the tile.

“Don’t you ‘Gregory’ me, Holmes. What did I say that last time I caught you?” The Omega said with a snarl, hands on his hips. “Now, come on. Tea’s getting cold.”

They took tea in the family room, the large area silent for once as the house was empty save for the two of them; the children off at school. Gregory had never taken advantage of Bonding Leave after mating with Mycroft, so he had more than enough time off saved up to stay at home and play nursemaid. It was a role which the Omega took rather seriously much to Mycroft’s amusement and annoyance. Honestly, it was simply impossible to get any work done with Gregory around. The Omega had commandeered all of the electronics in the house, including all three of Mycroft’s laptops and various mobiles, and refused to even let him watch the news or get the post.

What’s more his mate rarely left Mycroft’s side, clearly still shaken by the shooting, which made sneaking work with Anthea incredibly difficult. Outside of the thought of how dreadfully full his desk was going to be upon return, the Alpha hardly minded the time he spent alone with Gregory. But it was hard to from any kind of contingency plans when he couldn't concentrate on anything with his new mate. Mycroft found himself losing his train of thought more often than not, caught up in watching his Omega. They had only been mated for a month, so Mycroft supposed it was normal enough, but even the slightest hint of Gregory’s scent – the barest flash of a neck – made the Alpha was rock hard in his pants.

Which wouldn’t be so much of a problem if Watson hadn’t been rather implicit in his directions to _‘avoid all strenuous activities, and I mean_ all, _you two.’_ The sexual frustration added with his inability to work was making Mycroft cranky and bored. And a bored Holmes was never a good thing.

Gregory was talking about something or other, his voice a pleasant tenor as he cleared the tea tray and settled next to Mycroft on the couch. The Alpha slid an arm possessively over his mate’s shoulder and Gregory didn’t miss a beat in his story as he snuggled up against Mycroft’s good side. His mate shifted against him as he talked animatedly and Mycroft reveled in feeling Gregory easily through their thin t-shirts, the Omega’s higher body temperature making him like a small furnace. Mycroft let his arm hang lower around Gregory’s neck, watching fondly as the Omega rubbing at his jaw ruefully as he laughed, still going on about a story he'd heard from Sally about some rookie’s mistake that had led to some hilarious mix up or another.

Gregory’s lips twitched into an easy smile, a tongue darting out to moisten his bottom lip and the Alpha let his hand slide over his mate’s neck in a caress, touching the scabbed and still healing bonding mark. His fingers drifted lower, stroking down in small increments until he found a covered nipple, fingertips swirling.

“-and don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” Gregory grumbled, voice hitching as Mycroft teased and tweaked the peaked nub.

He huffed, hand sliding up Gregory’s thigh to brush at his crotch, nipping at his ear lobe. “I’m bored.”

“Watch a show.”

“I’d rather watch you.” Mycroft murmured against the heated skin and Gregory gasping as the Alpha stroked his rapidly hardening cock.

“John said no sex,” he panted, pushing Mycroft’s hands away and scooting clear to the other side of the couch, “we could pull your stitches.”

“Watching you fuck your hand is hardly sex, Gregory.” The Alpha purred, stretching out across the small space between them, ignoring the tight pulling pain from his hip. His mate whimpered, hips squirming as he bit his lip, eyes locked on Mycroft's already rather sizable errection.

“Why would you want to see that?”

“I enjoy watching you pleasure yourself.”

“But you wouldn’t be able to-”

“Humor me, Greg.”

The diminutive of his name – so rarely used – seemed to be just the push his Omega needed and he nodded, a slight tremble to his hands as pulled his cock out. Mycroft stared at the vestigial organ, taking in its pinked flush, the sheen the head had already taken, and felt his own dick twitch longingly at the sight and scent of it.

“Spread your legs more,” Mycroft demanded, bringing a hand down to press insistently against his own erection as Gregory obeyed. The Alpha groaned as he watched his mate play with himself, making sure to tug at his foreskin – slipping his fingertips underneath the loose skin, stretching it up and away from his body. It was a kink of Mycroft’s that never failed to arouse him, whose was fascinated by the skin his own cock lacked, and he slipped his pajama trousers down, freeing his own dick.

Gregory started to object but the Alpha interrupted him, voice harsh. “It’s not sex, don’t stop touching yourself.”

The Omega scowled but obediently kept stroking himself. For a long moment the room was only filled with the sounds of their mutual masturbation; their panting and moans, the sound of slick skin moving against itself, as the pair just watched each other.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that he could only watch but not touch that made the moment one of the more arousing sexual acts of Mycroft’s life. It seemed to be having the same effect on Gregory, who let out a moan of frustration before dropping his hands from his cock. Before the Alpha could reprimand him, his mate was settling between his legs.

The Omega glared up at him, though the sour look was more than a little ridiculous so close to Mycroft’s straining erection. “Keep your hips still; if you pull your stitches because of this, I’m telling John you did it wanking in the shower.”

“Fair-” Mycroft’s voice hitched as Gregory’s mouth wrapped around his cock, “-enough.”

The Alpha stroked his mate’s graying hair affectionately, panting open mouthed as he watch Gregory’s mouth sink lower and lower. It was a struggle to keep from moving – it had been so long since he’d had an orgasm and his Omega’s mouth was so wet and warm – but Mycroft knew the first moment his hips so much as twitched, Gregory would cease the activity.

Mycroft watched lazily, eyes drifting from the sight of his cock disappearing past Gregory's lips to where wide hips were frantically grinding against the leather couch. The Omega took his time, sucking up the length until only the tip remained inside, his tongue tracing every ridge of the mushroom head. He seemed to take particular interest in Mycroft’s slit, nimble tongue lapping at and probing the hole, sucking ever drop of pre-come that escaped it before it could even pearl up.

When he’d apparently had his fill of the salty liquid Gregory pulled off, mouthing and laving at the thick vein on the underside of his cock, following it down to the root. Perhaps it was the Omega in him that made Gregory so obsessed with is knot, but Mycroft hardly found it a fault, breath quickening the more that hot mouth sucked and nipped at it, and he couldn’t quite the long, drawn out moan when teeth scrapped lightly over the inflating skin.

The attention soon became too much for the oversensitive skin and Gregory seemed to sense that on all of his own, giving the knotting bulge on last kiss before pulling back. Mycroft sighed in relief, hand tightening in his mate’s hair in warning as the Omega swallowed his length once more, deep throating him all as the muscle constricted around the throbbing length. It was clear that neither wanted this to last long – Mycroft out of sheer need and Gregory out of fear of aggravating his injuries.

The Alpha was close (and he told Gregory as much) but instead of pulling off, the other only sank deeper and deeper, until his nose was buried in Mycroft’s pubic hair. He came with a snarl, head smacking against the couch arm, trying to pump up only to be pinned by Gregory’s gentle - yet quite firm - grip on his thighs. His knot began to bloom, but to Mycroft’s surprise the Omega didn’t pull away.

Gregory mouth went slack around him even as his throat worked overtime to swallow everything his Alpha was giving him. Mycroft watched, dumbfounded, as Gregory’s lips stretched with his knot, letting the hard flesh force his jaw open in a way that could not have possibly been comfortable. Semen escaped the open mouth easily, spilling across the Omega’s lips and jaw, dripping down into Mycroft’s lap.

The Alpha cried out, hands digging into the leather of the couch as he fought the urge to slam Gregory’s head down, to gag the Omega with his cock until it split him two. The ache in his knot was both pleasant and terrible, trapped between the wet warmth of Gregory’s mouth and the harsh pressure of his teeth and impossibly Mycroft found himself coming yet again. The strength of the orgasm was no less than the last – if anything it was far greater – and so closely after the first that it left the impeccable Alpha close to babbling.

Fingers dug into his thighs and Mycroft whined at the sight of his mate, absolutely _filthy,_ trying desperately to swallow as much of his come as possible. Suddenly Gregory moaned, hips stuttering against the leather, and the vibrations in tandem with the heady scent of his mate's completion seemed to reach far into the Alpha, forcing a third orgasm from him with a loud curse.

When the aftershocks finally left him coherent enough to think, Mycroft stared down at his mate in awe. He brushed his fingers over a harshly angled jaw and painfully swollen lips in a gentle caress.

“Gregory, that was…” His voice sounded utterly wrecked and Mycroft stopped to collect himself, swallowing several times before he felt confident enough to speak again. “No one has ever done this for me.”

The Omega smiled up at him, the crinkling around his eyes the only sign of the expression, his mouth still locked by Mycroft’s knot. Oral knotting was something that the Holmes had only heard about in hushed tales in Alpha dormitories and locker rooms or in porn. It was certainly not something Mycroft had ever thought he'd see - let alone experience - in real life. The act left an Omega at their most vulnerable, completely immobilized and exposed, and when consensual the act implied an unheard of level of trust.

The sight of Gregory so defenseless and trusting roused something deeply possessive inside Mycroft, the warm emotion curling tightly in his chest.

“You do know that I love you, do you not?” Mycroft asked softly as he brought a hand up to knead gently at the hinge of Gregory’s jaw while the other cupped his chin in support, trying to ease some of the strain. There was a huff of air against his damp crotch as his Omega glared up, but Gregory’s eyes were more amused than annoyed as he settled more comfortably between the Alpha’s legs.

Mycroft chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I should have waited to express that sentiment when your mouth was not quite so full.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end, folks! I hope to be getting the last part of this series out soon, which focuses on John and Sherlock.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope everyone enjoyed it!


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